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A  CHILD-WORLD 


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Vawter) 


A  CHILD-WORLD 


JAMES  WHITCOMB  RILEY 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright  1896 

by 
James  Whitcomb  Rilev 


PRESS  OF 

BRAUNWORTH  &  CO- 

BOOKBINDERS  AND  PRINTERS 

BROOKLYN.  N.  Y. 


TO 

MR.  AND  MRS.  CHARLES  L.  HOLSTEIN 


155574 


A  CHILD-WORLD 


THE  CHILD-WORLD— long  and  long  since  lost  to  view— 

A  Fairy  Paradise! — 
How  always  fair  it  was  and  fresh  and  new — 

How  every  affluent  hour  heaped  heart  and  eyes 
With  treasures  of  surprise  ! 

Enchantments  tangible :     The  under-brink 

Of  dawns  that  launched  the  sight 

Up  seas  of  gold :     The  dewdrop  on  the  pink, 

With  all  the  green  earth  in  it  and  blue  height 
Of  heavens  infinite  : 

The  liquid,  dripping  songs  of  orchard-birds — 

The  wee  bass  of  the  bees, — 
With  lucent  deeps  of  silence  afterwards ; 

The  gay,  clandestine  whisperings  of  the  breeze 
And  glad  leaves  of  the  trees. 


O  Child-World:    After  this  world — just  as  when 
I  found  you  first  sufficed 

My  soulmost  need — if  I  found  you  again, 
With  all  my  childish  dream  so  realised, 
I  should  not  be  surprised. 


CONTENTS 


PROEM 

THE  CHILD-WORLD 


...  17 

THE  OLD-HOME  FOLKS 26 

ALMON  KEEPER '     .  50 

NOEY  BIXLER 56 

"A  NOTED  TRAVELER"            , 66 

A  PROSPECTIVE  VISIT 69 

AT  MOBY'S  HOUSE ,  7I 


CONTENTS 


"  THAT  LITTLE  DOG  " 76 

THE  LOEHRS  AND  THE  HAMMONDS 81 

THE  HIRED  MAN  AND  FLORETTY      * 88 

THE  EVENING  COMPANY «  99 

MAYMIE'S  STORY  OF  RED  RIDING  HOOD       .  ...  104 

LIMITATIONS  OF  GENIUS        ........      m 

MR.  HAMMOND'S  PARABLE— THE  DREAMER «6 

FLORETTY'S  MUSICAL  CONTRIBUTION 123 

BUD'S  FAIRY-TALE  . 13° 

A  DELICIOUS  INTERRUPTION 143 

NOEY'S  NIGHT-PIECE us 

COUSIN  RUFUS'  STORY I5I 

BEWILDERING  EMOTIONS ,       .       .      161 


CONTENTS 


ALEX  TELLS  A  BEAR-STORY          » 163 

THE  PATHOS  OF  APPLAUSE -72 

TOLD  BY  "THE  NOTED  TRAVELER" 175 

HEAT-LIGHTNING l87 

UNCLE  MART'S  POEM JQi 

1  LITTLE  JACK  JANITOR  "     ..••«••••  >99 
FINALE 


THE  CHILD-WORLD 


A    CHILD-WORLD,  yet  a  wondrous  world  no  less, 

To  those  who  knew  its  boundless  happiness. 
A  simple  old  frame  house — eight  rooms  in  all — 
Set  just  one  side  the  center  of  a  small 
But  very  hopeful  Indiana  town,— 
The  upper-story  looking  squarely  down 
Upon  the  main  street,  and  the  main  highway 
From  East  to  West,— historic  in  its  day, 
Known  as  The  National  Road— old-timers,  all 
Who  linger  yet,  will  happily  recall 
It  as  the  scheme  and  handiwork,  as  well 
As  property,  of  "Uncle  Sam,"  and  tell 
Of  its  importance,  "long  and  long  afore 
Railroads  wuz  ever  dreamp*  of!  "—Furthermore, 
17 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

The  reminiscent  first  inhabitants 

Will  make  that  old  road  blossom  with  romance 
Of  snowy  caravans,  in  long  parade 
Of  covered  vehicles,  of  every  grade 
From  ox-cart  of  most  primitive  design, 
To  Conestoga  wagons,  with  their  fine 
Deep-chested  six-horse  teams,  in  heavy  gear, 
High  hames  and  chiming  bells— to  childish  ear 
And  eye  entrancing  as  the  glittering  train 
Of  some  sun-smitten  pageant  of  old  Spain. 
And,  in  like  spirit,  haply  they  will  tell 
You  of  the  roadside  forests,  and  the  yell 
Of  "wolfs"  and  "painters,"  in  the  long  night-ride, 
And  "screechin'  catamounts"  on  every  side. — 
Of  stagecoach-days,  highwaymen,  and  strange  crimes, 
And  yet  unriddled  mysteries  of  the  times 
Called  "Good  Old."  "And  why  'Good  Old'?"  once  a  rare 
Old  chronicler  was  asked,  who  brushed  the  hair 
18 


THE  OLD  HOME 

Out  of  his  twinkling  eyes  and  said, — "Well  John, 
They're  'good  old  times'  because  they're  dead  and  gone ! " 

The  old  home  site  was  portioned  into  three 

Distinctive  lots.    The  front  one— natively 

Facing  to  southward,  broad  and  gaudy-fine 

With  lilac,  dahlia,  rose,  and  flowering  vine— 

The  dwelling  stood  in ;  and  behind  that,  and 

Upon  the  alley  north  and  south,  left  hand, 

The  old  wood-house,— half,  trimly  stacked  with  wood, 

And  half,  a  work-shop,  where  a  workbench  stood 

Steadfastly  through  all  seasons. — Over  it, 

Along  the  wall,  hung  compass,  brace-and-bit, 

And  square,  and  drawing-knife,  and  smoothing-plane — 

And  little  jack-plane,  too— the  children's  vain 

Possession  by  pretense — in  fancy  they 

Manipulating  it  in  endless  play, 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Turning  out  countless  curls  and  loops  of  bright, 

Fine  satin  shavings — Rapture  infinite ! 

Shelved  quilting-frames ;  the  toolchest ;  the  old  box 

Of  refuse  nails  and  screws ;  a  rough  gun-stock's 

Outline  in  "curly  maple";  and  a  pair 

Of  clamps  and  old  krout-cutter  hanging  there. 

Some  "  patterns,"  in  thin  wood,  of  shield  and  scroll, 

Hung  higher,  with  a  neat  "cane-fishing-pole" 

And  careful  tackle — all  securely  out 

Of  reach  of  children,  rummaging  about. 

Beside  the  wood-house,  with  broad  branches  free 

Yet  close  above  the  roof,  an  apple-tree 

Known  as  "The  Prince's  Harvest" — Magic  phrase! 

That  was  a  boy's  own  tree,  in  many  ways! — 

Its  girth1  and  height  meet  both  for  the  caress 

Of  his  bare  legs  and  his  ambitiousnessj 


20 


A  SOT'S  OWN  TREE 

And  then  its  apples,  humoring  his  whim, 

Seemed  just  to  fairly  hurry  ripe  for  him— 

Even  in  June,  impetuous  as  he, 

They  dropped  to  meet  him,  halfway  up  the  tree. 

And  O  their  bruised  sweet  faces  where  they  fell ! — 

And  ho!  the  lips  that  feigned  to  "kiss  them  well"! 

"The  Old  Sweet- Apple-Tree,"  a  stalwart,  stood 

In  fairly  sympathetic  neighborhood 

Of  this  wild  princeling  with  his  early  gold 

To  toss  about  so  lavishly  nor  hold 

In  bounteous  hoard  to  overbrim  at  once 

All  Nature's  lap  when  came  the  Autumn  months. 

Under  the  spacious  shade  of  this  the  eyes 

Of  swinging  children  saw  swift-changing  skies 

Of  blue  and  green,  with  sunshine  shot  between, 

And  "when  the  old  cat  died  "  they  saw  but  green. 


21 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

And,  then,  there  was  a  cherry-tree. — We  all 
And  severally  will  yet  recall 
From  our  lost  youth,  in  gentlest  memory, 
The  blessed  fact — There  was  a  cherry-tree. 

There  was  a.  cherry-tree.    Its  bloomy  snows 
Cool  even  now  the  fevered  sight  that  knows 
No  more  its  airy  visions  of  pure  joy- 
As  when  you  were  a  boy. 

There  was  a  cherry-tree.    The  Bluejay  set 
His  blue  against  Us  white— O  blue  as  jet 
He  seemed  there  then !— But  wow— Whoever  knew 
He  was  so  pale  a  blue! 

There  was  a  cherry-tree— Our  child-eyes  saw 
The  miracle :— Its  pure  white  snows  did  thaw 
Into  a  crimson  fruitage,  far  too  sweet 
But  for  a  boy  to  eat. 

There  was  a  cherry-tree,  give  thanks  and  joy  I— - 
There  was  a  bloom  of  snow— There  was  a  boy- 
There  was  a  Biuejay  of  the  realest  blue— 
And  fruit  for  both  of  you. 

22 


THE  GARDEN  AND   THE  MARTIN-BOX 

Then  the  old  garden,  with  the  apple-trees 
Grouped  'round  the  margin,  and  "a  stand  of  bees" 
By  the  "white-winter-pearmain";  and  a  row 
Of  currant-bushes;  and  a  quince  or  so. 
The  old  grape-arbor  in  the  center,  by 
The  pathway  to  the  stable,  with  the  sty 
Behind  it,  and  upon  it,  cootering  flocks 
Of  pigeons,— and  the  cutest  "martin-box1'!— 
Made  like  a  sure-enough  house — with  roof,  and  doors 
And  windows  in  it,  and  veranda-floors 
And  balusters  all  'round  it— yes,  and  at 
Each  end  a  chimney — painted  red  at  that 
And  penciled  white,  to  look  like  little  bricks; 
And,  to  cap  all  the  builder's  cunning  tricks, 
Two  tiny  little  lightning-rods  were  run 
Straight  up  their  sides,  and  twinkled  in  the  sun. 
Who  built  it?    Nay,  no  answer  but  a  smile. — 
It  may  be  you  can  guess  who,  afterwhile. 
23 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Home  in  his  stall,  "  Old  Sorrel "  munched  his  hay 
And  oats  and  corn,  and  switched  the  flies  away, 
In  a  repose  of  patience  good  to  see, 
And  earnest  of  the  gentlest  pedigree. 
With  half  pathetic  eye  sometimes  he  gazed 
Upon  the  gambols  of  a  colt  that  grazed 
Around  the  edges  of  the  lot  outside, 
And  kicked  at  nothing  suddenly,  and  tried 
To  act  grown-up  and  graceful  and  high-bred, 
But  dropped,  k'wkop!  and  scraped  the  buggy-shed, 
Leaving  a  tuft  of  woolly,  foxy  hair 
Under  the  sharp-end  of  a  gate-hinge  there. 
Then,  all  ignobly  scrambling  to  his  feet 
And  whinneying  a  whinney  like  a  bleat, 
He  would  pursue  himself  around  the  lot 
And — do  the  whole  thing  over,  like  as  not!  .  .  . 
Ah !  what  a  life  of  constant  fear  and  dread 
And  flop  and  squawk  and  flight  the  chickens  led! 
24 


THE  LOVELY  NEIGHBORHOOD. 

Above  the  fences,  either  side,  were  seen 

The  neighbor-houses,  set  in  plots  of  green 

Dooryards  and  greener  gardens,  tree  and  wall 

Alike  whitewashed,  and  order  in  it  all : 

The  scythe  hooked  in  the  tree-fork ;  and  the  spade 

And  hoe  and  rake  and  shovel  all,  when  laid 

Aside,  were  in  their  places,  ready  for 

The  hand  of  either  the  possessor  or 

Of  any  neighbor,  welcome  to  the  loan 

Of  any  tool  he  might  not  chance  to  own. 


25 


THE  OLD-HOME  FOLKS 

O  UCH  was  the  Child-World  of  the  long-ago— 
The  little  world  these  children  used  to  know: 
Johnty,  the  oldest,  and  the  best,  perhaps, 
Of  the  five  happy  little  Hoosier  chaps 
Inhabiting  this  wee  world  all  their  own. — 
Johnty,  the  leader,  with  his  native  tone 
Of  grave  command — a  general  on  parade 
Whose  each  punctilious  order  was  obeyed 
By  his  proud  followers. 

But  Johnty  yet — 

After  all  serious  duties — could  forget 
The  gravity  of  life  to  the  extent, 
At  times,  of  kindling  much  astonishment 
About  him  :    With  a  quick,  observant  eye, 
And  mind  and  memory,  he  could  supply 
26 


JOHNTT  AND  HIS  CONSCIENCE 

The  tamest  incident  with  liveliest  mirth ; 
And  at  the  most  unlooked-for  times  on  earth 
Was  wont  to  break  into  some  travesty 
On  those  around  him— feats  of  mimicry 
Of  this  one's  trick  of  gesture— that  one's  walk— 
Or  this  one's  laugh— or  that  one's  funny  talk,— 
The  way  "the  watermelon-man"  would  try 
His  humor  on  town-folks  that  wouldn't  buy;— 
How  he  drove  into  town  at  morning — then 
At  dusk  (alas!)  how  he  drove  out  again. 

Though  these  divertisements  of  Johnty's  were 
Hailed  with  a  hearty  glee  and  relish,  there 
Appeared  a  sense,  on  his  part,  of  regret— 
A  spirit  of  remorse  that  would  not  let 
Him  rest  for  days  thereafter.— Such  times  he, 
As  some  boy  said,  "jist  got  too  overly 


A    CHILD-WORLD. 

Blame  good  fer  common  boys  like  us,  you  know, 
To  'Delate  with — less'n  we  Jud  go 
And  jine  his  church ! " 

Next  after  Johnty  came 
His  little  tow-head  brother,  Bud  by  name. — 
And  O  how  white  his  hair  was — and  how  thick 
His  face  with  freckles,— and  his  ears,  how  quick 
And  curious  and  intrusive !— And  how  pale 
The  blue  of  his  big  eyes ;— and  how  a  tale 
Of  Giants,  Trolls  or  Fairies,  bulged  them  still 
Bigger  and  bigger!— and  when  "Jack"  would  kill 
The  old  "Four-headed  Giant,"  Bud's  big  eyes 
Were  swollen  truly  into  giant-size. 
And  Bud  was  apt-  in  make-believes—would  hear 
His  Grandma  talk  or  read,  with  such  an  ear 
And  memory  of  both  subject  and  big  words, 
That  he  would  take  the  book  up  afterwards 
28 


BUD  AND    THE   SUPERLATIVE. 

And  feign  to  "read  aloud,"  with  such  success 
As  caused  his  truthful  elders  real  distress. 
But  he  must  have  big  words— they  seemed  to  give 
Extremer  range  to  the  superlative— 
That  was  his  passion.    "My  Gran'ma,"  he  said, 
One  evening,  after  listening  as  she  read 
Some  heavy  old  historical  review— 
With  copious  explanations  thereunto 
Drawn  out  by  his  inquiring  turn  of  mind,— 
"  My  Gran'ma  she's  read  all  books— ever'  kind 
They  is,  'at  tells  all  'bout  the  land  an'  sea 
An'  Nations  of  the  Earth !— An'  she  is  the 
Historicul-est  woman  ever  wuz!" 
(Forgive  the  verse's  chuckling  as  it  does 
In  its  erratic  current.— Oftentimes 
The  little  willowy  waterbrook  of  rhymes 
Must  falter  in  its  music,  listening  to 
The  children  laughing  as  they  used  to  do.) 
29 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Who  shall  sing  a  simple  ditty  all  about  the  Willow, 
Dainty-fine  and  delicate  as  any  bending  spray 

That  dandles  high  the  happy  bird  that  flutters  there  to  trill  a 
Tremulously  tender  song  of  greeting  to  the  May. 

Ah,  my  lovely  Willow!— Let  the  Waters  lilt  your  graces,— 
They  alone  with  limpid  kisses  lave  your  leaves  above, 

Flashing  back  your  sylvan  beauty,  and  in  shady  places 
Peering  up  with  glimmering  pebbles,  like  the  eyes  of  love. 

Next,  Maymie,  with  her  hazy  cloud  of  hair, 
And  the  blue  skies  of  eyes  beneath  it  there. 
Her  dignified  and  "  little  lady  "  airs 
Of  never  either  romping  up  the  stairs 
Or  falling  down  them ;  thoughtful  everyway 
Of  others  first— The  kind  of  child  at  play 
That  "  gave  up,"  for  the  rest,  the  ripest  pear 
Or  peach  or  apple  in  the  garden  there 
Beneath  the  trees  where  swooped  the  airy  swing— 
She  pushing  it,  too  glad  for  anything ! 


MA  TMIE  AND  ALEX 

Or,  in  the  character  of  hostess,  she 
Would  entertain  her  friends  delightfully 
In  her  play-house, — with  strips  of  carpet  laid 
Along  the  garden-fence  within  the  shade 
Of  the  old  apple-trees — where  from  next  yard 
Came  the  two  dearest  friends  in  her  regard, 
The  little  Crawford  girls,  Ella  and  Lu— 
As  shy  and  lovely  as  the  lilies  grew 
In  their  idyllic  home,— yet  sometimes  they 
Admitted  Bud  and  Alex  to  their  play, 
Who  did  their  heavier  work  and  helped  them  fix 
To  have  a  "  Festibul  "—and  brought  the  bricks 
And  built  the  "stove,"  with  a  real  fire  and  all, 
And  stovepipe-joint  for  chimney,  looming  tall 
And  wonderfully  smoky—even  to 
Their  childish  aspirations,  as  it  blew 
And  swooped  and  swirled  about  them  till  their  sight 
Was  feverish  even  as  their  high  delight. 
31 


A    CHILD-WORLD. 

Then  Alex,  with  his  freckles,  and  his  freaks 
Of  temper,  and  the  peach-bloom  of  his  cheeks, 
And  "  amber-colored  hair  " — his  mother  said 
Twas  that,  when  others  laughed  and  called  it  "red" 
And  Alex  threw  things  at  them — till  they'd  call 
A  truce,  agreeing  "'t'uz  n't  red  ut-talll" 

But  Alex  was  affectionate  beyond 

The  average  child,  and  was  extremely  fond 

Of  the  paternal  relatives  of  his 

Of  whom  he  once  made  estimate  like  th!s:-~ 

"/'»»  only  got  two  brothers, — but  my  Pa 

He's  got  most  brothers'n  you  ever  saw! — 

He's  got  seben  brothers !— Yes,  an'  they're  all  my 

Seben  Uncles !— Uncle  John,  an'  Jim,— an'  I' 

Got  Uncle  George,  an*  Uncle  Andy,  too, 

An'  Uncle  Frank,  an*  Uncle  Joe.— An'  you 


LITTLE  LIZZIE  AND  THE  PARENTS 

Know  Uncle  Mart.— An',  all  but  Urn,  they're  great 
Big  mens ! — An*  nen  s  Aunt  Sarah — she  makes  eight  !— 
I'm  got  eight  uncles! — 'cept  Aunt  Sarah  can't 
Be  ist  my  uncle  'cause  she's  ist  my  aunt!" 

Then,  next  to  Alex-  -and  the  last  indeed 

Of  these  five  little  ones  of  whom  you  read — 

Was  baby  Lizzie,  with  her  velvet  lisp/ — 

As  though  her  Elfin  lips  had  caught  some  wisp 

Of  floss  between  them  as  they  strove  with  speech, 

Which  ever  seemed  just  in  yet  out  of  reach — 

Though  what  her  lips  missed,  her  dark  eyes  could  say 

With  looks  that  made  her  meaning  clear  as  day. 

And,  knowing  now  the  children,  you  must  know 
The  father  and  the  mother  they  loved  so  :— 
The  father  was  a  swarthy  man,  black-eyed, 
Black-haired,  and  high  of  forehead ;  and,  beside 
3  33 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

The  slender  little  mother,  seemed  in  truth 
A  very  king  of  men — since,  from  his  youth, 
To  his  hale  manhood  now — (worthy  as  then, — 
A  lawyer  and  a  leading  citizen 
Of  the  proud  little  town  and  county-seat— 
His  hopes  his  neighbors*,  and  their  fealty  sweet)- 
He  had  known  outdoor  labor— rain  and  shine — 
Bleak  Winter,  and  bland  Summer — foul  and  fine. 
So  Nature  had  ennobled  him  and  set 
Her  symbol  on  him  like  a  coronet: 
His  lifted  brow,  and  frank,  reliant  face. — 
Superior  of  stature  as  of  grace, 
Even  the  children  by  the  spell  were  wrought 
Up  to  heroics  of  their  simple  thought, 
And  saw  him,  trim  of  build,  and  lithe  and  straight 
And  tall,  almost,  as  at  the  pasture-gate 
The  towering  ironweed  the  scythe  had  spared 
For  their  sakes,  when  The  Hired  Man  declared 
34 


THE  GENTLE  MOTHER 

It  would  grow  on  till  it  became  a  tree, 
With  cocoanuts  and  monkeys  in— maybe! 

Yet,  though  the  children,  in  their  pride  and  awe 

And  admiration  of  the  father,  saw 

A  being  so  exalted— even  more 

Like  adoration  was  the  love  they  bore 

The  gentle  mother.— Her  mild,  plaintive  face 

Was  purely  fair,  and  haloed  with  a  grace 

And  sweetness  luminous  when  joy  made  glad 

Her  features  with  a  smile ;  or  saintly  sad 

As  twilight,  fell  the  sympathetic  gloom 

Of  any  childish  grief,  or  as  a  room 

Were  darkened  suddenly,  the  curtain  drawn 

Across  the  window  and  the  sunshine  gone. 

Her  brow,  below  her  fair  hair's  glimmering  strands, 

Seemed  meetest  resting-place  for  blessing  hands 


35 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Or  holiest  touches  of  soft  finger-tips 
And  little  roseleaf-cheeks  and  dewy  lips. 

Though  heavy  household  tasks  were  pitiless, 
No  little  waist  or  coat  or  checkered  dress 
But  knew  her  needle's  deftness ;  and  no  skill 
Matched  hers  in  shaping  pleat  or  flounce  or  frill  r 
Or  fashioning,  in  complicate  design, 
All  rich  embroideries  of  leaf  and  vine, 
With  tiniest  twining  tendril,— bud  and  bloom 
And  fruit,  so  like,  one's  fancy  caught  perfume 
And  dainty  touch  and  taste  of  them,  to  see 
Their  semblance  wrought  in  such  rare  verity. 

Shrined  in  her  sanctity  of  home  and  love, 
And  love's  fond  service  and  reward  thereof, 
Restore  her  thus,  O  blessed  Memory! — 
Throned  in  her  rocking-chair,  and  on  her  knee 
36 


THE  SILENT  POEM 

Her  sewing— her  workbasket  on  the  floor 

Beside  her,— Springtime  through  the  open  door 

Balmily  stealing  in  and  all  about 

The  room ;  the  bees'  dim  hum,  and  the  far  shout 

And  laughter  of  the  children  at  their  play, 

And  neighbor-children  from  across  the  way 

Calling  in  gleeful  challenge— save  alone 

One  boy  whose  voice  sends  back  no  answering  tone- 

The  boy,  prone  on  the  floor,  above  a  book 

Of  pictures,  with  a  rapt,  ecstatic  look™ 

Even  as  the  mother's,  by  the  selfsame  spell, 

Is  lifted,  with  a  light  ineffable— 

As  though  her  senses  caught  no  mortal  cry, 

But  heard,  instead,  some  poem  going  by. 

The  Child-heart  is  so  strange  a  little  thing— 

So  mild— so  timorously  shy  and  small,— 
When  grown-up  hearts  throb,  it  goes  scampering 

Behind  the  wall,  nor  dares  peer  out  at  all  I— 

37 


A    CHILD-WORLD 


It  is  the  veriest  mouse 
That  hides  In  any  house- 
So  wild  a  little  thing  is  any  Child-heart! 

Child-heart  I— mild  heart  I— 
Ho,  my  little  wild  heart  1— 
Come  up  here  to  me  out  o'  the  dark, 
Or  let  me  come  to  you  I 

So  lorn  at  times  the  Child-heart  needs  must  be, 

With  never  one  maturer  heart  for  friend 
And  comrade,  whose  tear-ripened  sympathy 
And  love  might  lend  it  comfort  to  the  end, — 
Whose  yearnings,  aches  and  stings, 
Over  poor  little  things 
Were  pitiful  as  ever  any  Child-heart. 

Child-heart !— mild  heart  t— 
Ho,  my  little  wild  heart!— 
Come  up  here  to  mt  out  o'  the  dark, 
Or  let  me  come  to  you  t 

Times,  too,  the  little  Child-heart  must  be  glad- 
Being  so  young,  nor  knowing,  as  we  know, 

The  fact  from  fantasy,  the  good  from  bad, 
The  joy  from  woe,  the— all  that  hurts  us  sot 

38 


OLD  SCENES  AND  SOUNDS 

What  wonder  then  that  thus 
It  hides  away  from  us? — 
So  weak  a  little  thing  is  any  Child-heart! 

Child-heart!— mild  heart!— 
Ho,  my  little  wild  heart!— 
Come  up  here  to  me  out  o'  the  dark, 
Or  let  me  come  to  you! 

Nay,  little  Child-heart,  you  have  never  need 
To  fear  us; — we  are  weaker  far  than  you*— 
Tis  we  who  should  be  fearful— we  indeed 
Should  hide  us.  too.  as  darkly  as  you  d<v- 
Safe,  as  yourself,  withdrawn, 
Hearing  the  World  roar  on 
Too  willful,  woful,  awful  for  the  Child-heart  t 

Child-heart !— mild  heart!— 
Ho,  my  little  wild  heart  /— 
Come  up  here  to  me  out  o'  the  dark. 
Or  let  me  come  to  you ! 

The  clock  chats  on  confidingly;  a  rose 
Taps  at  the  window,  as  the  sunlight  throws 
39 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

A  brilliant,  jostling  checkerwork  of  shine 
And  shadow,  like  a  Persian-loom  design, 
Across  the  homemade  carpet — fades, — and  then 
The  dear  old  colors  are  themselves  again. 
Sounds  drop  in  visiting  from  everywhere— 
The  bluebird's  and  the  robin's  trill  are  there, 
Their  sweet  liquidity  diluted  some 
By  dewy  orchard  spaces  they  have  come: 
Sounds  of  the  town,  too,  and  the  great  highway— 
The  Mover-wagons'  rumble,  and  the  neigh 
Of  overtraveled  horses,  and  the  bleat 
Of  sheep  and  low  of  cattle  through  the  street— 
A  Nation's  thoroughfare  of  hopes  and  fears, 
First  blazed  by  the  heroic  pioneers 
Who  gave  up  old-home  idols  and  set  face 
Toward  the  unbroken  West,  to  found  a  race 
And  tame  a  wilderness  now  mightier  than 
All  peoples  and  all  tracts  American. 
40 


HOUSEHOLD  HARMONIES 

Blent  with  all  outer  sounds,  the  sounds  within  s-— 
In  mild  remoteness  falls  the  household  din 
Of  porch  and  kitchen :  the  dull  jar  and  thump 
Of  churning;  and  the  " glung-glung "  of  the  pump, 
With  sudden  pad  and  skurry  of  bare  feet 
Of  little  outlaws,  in  from  field  or  street : 
The  clang  of  kettle, — rasp  of  damper-ring 
And  bang  of  cookstove-door — and  everything 
That  jingles  in  a  busy  kitchen  lifts 
Its  individual  wrangling  voice  and  drifts 
In  sweetest  tinny,  coppery,  pewtery  tone 
Of  music  hungry  ear  has  ever  known 
In  wildest  famished  yearning  and  conceit 
Of  youth,  to  just  cut  loose  and  eat  and  eat  I— 
The  zest  of  hunger  still  incited  on 
To  childish  desperation  by  long-drawn 
Breaths  of  hot,  steaming,  wholesome  things  that  stew 
And  blubber,  and  up-tilt  the  pot-lids,  too, 
41 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Filling  the  sense  with  zestful  rumors  of 
The  dear  old-fashioned  dinners  children  love : 
Redolent  savorings  of  home-cured  meats, 
Potatoes,  beans,  and  cabbage ;  turnips,  beets 
And  parsnips — rarest  composite  entire 
That  ever  pushed  a  mortal  child's  desire 
To  madness  by  new-grated  fresh,  keen,  sharp 
Horseradish— tang  that  sets  the  lips  awarp 
And  watery,  anticipating  all 
The  cloyed  sweets  of  the  glorious  festival. — 
Still  add  the  cinnamony,  spicy  scents 
Of  clove,  nutmeg,  and  myriad  condiments 
In  like-alluring  whiffs  that  prophesy 
Of  sweltering  pudding,  cake,  and  custard  pie  — 
The  swooning-sweet  aroma  haunting  all 
The  house— upstairs  and  down— porch,  parlor,  hall 
And  sitting-room — invading  even  where 
The  Hired  Man  sniffs  it  in  the  orchard-air, 
42 


COUSIN  RUFUS  AND   UNCLE  MART 

And  pauses  in  his  pruning  of  the  trees 
To  note  the  sun  minutely  and  to — sneeze. 

Then  Cousin  Rufus  comes— the  children  hear 
His  hale  voice  in  the  old  hall,  ringing  clear 
As  any  bell.    Always  he  came  with  song 
Upon  his  lips    and  all  the  happy  throng 
Of  echoes  following  him,  even  as  the  crowd 
Of  his  admiring  little  kinsmen — proud 
To  have  a  cousin  grown — and  yet  as  young 
Of  soul  and  cheery  as  the  songs  he  sung. 

He  was  a  student  of  the  law — intent 
Soundly  to  win  success,  with  all  it  meant; 
And  so  he  studied — even  as  he  played, — 
With  all  his  heart:    And  so  it  was  he  made 
His  gallant  fight  for  fortune — through  all  stress 
Of  battle  bearing  him  with  cheeriness 

And  wholesome  valor. 

43 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

And  the  children  had 
Another  relative  who  kept  them  glad 
And  joyous  by  his  very  merry  ways — 
As  blithe  and  sunny  as  the  summer  days,™ 
Their  father's  youngest  brother— Uncle  Mart. 
The  old  "Arabian  Nights  "  he  knew  by  heart— 
"  Baron  Munchausen,"  too  ;  and  likewise  "  The 
Swiss  Family  Robinson."— And  when  these  three 
Gave  out,  as  he  rehearsed  them,  he  could  go 
Straight  on  in  the  same  line — a  steady  flow 
Of  arabesque  invention  that  his  good 
Old  mother  never  clearly  understood. 
He  was  to  be  a  printer — wanted,  though, 
To  be  an  actor. — But  the  world  was  "  show  " 
Enough  for  him, — theatric,  airy,  gay, — 
Each  day  to  him  was  jolly  as  a  play. 
And  some  poetic  symptoms,  too,  in  sooth, 
Were  certain. — And,  from  his  apprentice  youth, 
44 


THE  TREE-HOUSE 

He  joyed  in  verse-quotations— which  he  took 
Out  of  the  old  "Type  Foundry  Specimen  Book." 
He  craved  and  courted  most  the  favor  of 
The  children. — They  were  foremost  in  his  love ; 
And  pleasing  them,  he  pleased  his  own  boy-heart 
And  kept  it  young  and  fresh  in  every  part. 
So  was  it  he  devised  for  them  and  wrought 
To  life  his  quaintest,  most  romantic  thought: — 
Like  some  lone  castaway  in  alien  seas, 
He  built  a  house  up  in  the  apple-trees, 
Out  in  the  corner  of  the  garden,  where 
No  man-devouring  native,  prowling  there, 
Might  pounce  upon  them  in  the  dead  o'  night — 
For  lo,  their  little  ladder,  slim  and  light, 
They  drew  up  after  them.     And  it  was  known 
That  Uncle  Mart  slipped  up  sometimes  alone 
And  drew  the  ladder  in,  to  lie  and  moon 
Over  some  novel  all  the  afternoon. 
45 


A   CHILD-WORLD 

And  one  time  Johnty,  from  the  crowd  below,— 
Outraged  to  find  themselves  deserted  so— 
Threw  bodily  their  old  black  cat  up  in 
The  airy  fastness,  with  much  yowl  and  din 
Resulting,  while  a  wild  periphery 
Of  cat  went  circling  to  another  tree, 
And,  in  impassioned  outburst,  Uncle  Mart 
Loomed  up,  and  thus  relieved  his  tragic  heart : 

"  '  Hence,  long-tailed,  ebon- eyed,  nocturnal  ranger! 

What  led  thee  hither  Amongst  the  types  and  cases? 

Didst  thou  not  know  that  running  midnight  races 
O'er  standing  types  was  fraught  with  imminent  danger? 
Did  hunger  lead  thee — didst  thou  think  to  find 

Some  rich  old  cheese  to  fill  thy  hungry  maw? 

Vain  hope !  for  none  but  literary  jaw 
Can  masticate  our  cookery  for  the  mind ! '  " 


THE  DINNER  AND  THE  GUESTS 

So  likewise  when,  with  lordly  air  and  grace, 
He  strode  to  dinner,  with  a  tragic  face 
With  ink-spots  on  it  from  the  office,  he 
Would  aptly  quote  more  "Specimen-poetry—" 
Perchance  like  " '  Labor's  bread  is  sweet  to  eat, 
(Ahmft  And  toothsome  is  the  toiler's  meat.' " 

Ah,  could  you  see  them  all,  at  lull  of  noon  !— 
A  sort  of  boisterous  lull,  with  clink  of  spoon 
And  clatter  of  deflecting  knife,  and  plate 
Dropped  saggingly,  with  its  all-bounteous  weight, 
And  dragged  in  place  voraciously;  and  then 
Pent  exclamations,  and  the  lull  again.— 
The  garland  of  glad  faces  'round  the  board- 
Each  member  of  the  family  restored 
To  his  or  her  place,  with  an  extra  chair 
Or  two  for  the  chance  guests  so  often  there.— 


47 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

The  father's  farmer-client,  brought  home  from 
The  courtroom,  though  he  "didn't  want  to  come 
Tel  he  jist  saw  he  hat  to!"  he'd  explain, 
Invariably,  time  and  time  again, 
To  the  pleased  wife  and  hostess,  as  she  pressed 
Another  cup  of  coffee  on  the  guest. — 
Or  there  was  Johnty's  special  chum,  perchance, 
Or  Bud's,  or  both— each  childish  countenance 
Lit  with  a  higher  glow  of  youthful  glee, 
To  be  together  thus  unbrokenly,— 
Jim  Offutt,  or  Eck  Skinner,  or  George  Carr— 
The  very  nearest  chums  of  Bud's  these  are, — 
So,  very  probably,  one  of  the  three, 
At  least,  is  there  with  Bud,  or  ought  to  be. 
Like  interchange  the  town-boys  each  had  known- 
His  playmate's  dinner  better  than  his  own — 
Yet  blest  that  he  was  ever  made  to  stay 
At  Almon  KeefeSs^  any  blessed  day, 
48 


A  T  ALMON  KEEPER'S 

For  any  meal !  .  .  .  Visions  of  biscuits,  hot 

And  flaky-perfect,  with  the  golden  blot 

Of  molten  butter  for  the  center,  clear, 

Through  pools  of  clover-honey — dear-o-dear  /— 

With  creamy  milk  for  its  divine  "farewell": 

And  then,  if  any  one  delectable 

Might  yet  exceed  in  sweetness,  O  restore 

The  cherry-cobbler  of  the  days  of  yore 

Made  only  by  Al  Keefer's  mother!— Why, 

The  very  thought  of  it  ignites  the  eye 

Of  memory  with  rapture— cloys  the  lip 

Of  longing,  till  it  seems  to  ooze  and  drip 

With  veriest  juice  and  stain  and  overwaste 

Of  that  most  sweet  delirium  of  taste 

That  ever  visited  the  childish  tongue, 

Or  proved,  as  now,  the  sweetest  thing  unsung. 


ALMON  KEEPER 

AH,   ALMON  KEEPER!  what  a  boy  you  were, 
With  your  back-tilted  hat  and  careless  hair, 
And  open,  honest,  fresh,  fair  face  and  eyes 
With  their  all-varying  looks  of  pleased  surprise 
And  joyous  interest  in  flower  and  tree, 
And  poising  humming-bird,  and  maundering  bee. 

The  fields  and  woods  he  knew;  the  tireless  tramp 
With  gun  and  dog;  and  the  night-fisher's  camp- 
No  other  boy,  save  Bee  Lineback,  had  won 
Such  brilliant  mastery  of  rod  and  gun. 
Even  in  his  earliest  childhood  had  he  shown 
These  traits  that  marked  him  as  his  father's  own. 
Dogs  all  paid  Almon  honor  and  bow-wowed 
Allegiance,  let  him  come  in  any  crowd 
Of  rabbit-hunting  town-boys,  even  though 
His  own  dog  "  Sleuth  "  rebuked  their  acting  so 
With  jealous  snarls  and  growlings. 


ALMOWS  LITERART  LEANINGS 

But  the  best 

Of  Almon's  virtues — leading  all  the  rest — 
Was  his  great  love  of  books,  and  skill  as  well 
In  reading  them  aloud,  and  by  the  spell 
Thereof  enthralling  his  mute  listeners,  as 
They  grouped  about  him  in  the  orchard  grass, 
Hinging  their  bare  shins  in  the  mottled  shine 
And  shade,  as  they  lay  prone,  or  stretched  supine 
Beneath  their  favorite  tree,  with  dreamy  eyes 
And  Argo-fancies  voyaging  the  skies. 
"  Tales  of  the  Ocean  "  was  the  name  of  one 
Old  dog's-eared  book  that  was  surpassed  by  none 
Of  all  the  glorious  list— Its  back  was  gone, 
But  its  vitality  went  bravely  on 
In  such  delicious  tales  of  land  and  sea 
As  may  not  ever  perish  utterly. 
Of  still  more  dubious  caste,  "Jack  Sheppard"  drew 
Full  admiration;  and  "Dick  Turpin,"  too. 


A  CHILD-WORLD 

And,  painful  as  the  fact  is  to  convey, 

In  certain  lurid  tales  of  their  own  day, 
These  boys  found  thieving  heroes  and  outlaws 
They  hailed  with  equal  fervor  of  applause: 
"The  League  of  the  Miami" — why,  the  name 
Alone  was  fascinating — is  the  same, 
In  memory,  this  venerable  hour 
Of  moral  wisdom  shorn  of  all  its  power, 
As  it  unblushingly  reverts  to  when 
The  old  barn  was  "the  Cave,"  and  hears  again 
The  signal  blown,  outside  the  buggy-shed — 
The  drowsy  guard  within  uplifts  his  head, 
And  "'Who  goes  there?'"  is  called,  in  bated  breath— 
The  challenge  answered  in  a  hush  of  death,— 
"  Sh  !— 'Barney  Gray!'  "   And  then  tl  'What  do  you  seek  ?'  " 
''  'Stables of  The  League /'  "  the  voice  comes  spent  and  weak, 
For,  ha!  the  Law  is  on  the  " Chieftain's"  trail- 
Tracked  to  his  very  lair  1— Well,  what  avail? 
52. 


THE  ROBBER-CHIEF 

The  "secret  entrance"  opens— closes.—So 

The  "  Robber-Captain  "  thus  outwits  his  foe ; 

And,  safe  once  more  within  his  "cavern-halls," 

He  shakes  his  clenched  fist  at  the  warped  plank-walls 

And  mutters  his  defiance  through  the  cracks 

At  the  balked  Enemy's  retreating  backs 

As  the  loud  horde  flees  pell-mell  down  the  lano, 

And — Almon  Keefer  is  himself  again! 

Excepting  few,  they  were  not  books  indeed 
Of  deep  import  that  Almon  chose  to  read ; — 
Less  fact  than  fiction. — Much  he  favored  thosa— 
If  not  in  poetry,  in  hectic  prose — 
That  made  our  native  Indian  a  wild, 
Feathered  and  fine-preened  hero  that  a  child 
Could  recommend  as  just  about  the  thing 
To  make  a  god  of,  or  at  least  a  king. 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Aside  from  Almon's  own  books — two  or  three — 
His  store  of  lore  The  Township  Library 
Supplied  him  weekly:    All  the  books  with  "or"s— 
Sub-titled—lured  him— after  "Indian  Wars," 
And  "Life  of  Daniel  Boone,"— not  to  include 
Some  few  books  spiced  with  humor,—"  Robin  Hood  " 
And  rare  "Don  Quixote."— And  one  time  he  took 
"  Dadd's  Cattle  Doctor."  .  .  .  How  he  hugged  the  book 
And  hurried  homeward,  with  internal  glee 
And  humorous  spasms  of  expectancy! — 
All  this  confession— as  he  promptly  made 
It,  the  day  later,  writhing  in  the  shade 
Of  the  old  apple-tree  with  Johnty  and 
Bud,  Noey  Bixler,  and  The  Hired  Hand- 
Was  quite  as  funny  as  the  book  was  not.  .  .  . 
O  Wonderland  of  wayward  Childhood!  what 
An  easy,  breezy  realm  of  summer  calm 
And  dreamy  gleam  and  gloom  and  bloom  and  balm 
54 


WHILE  THE  HEART  BEATS  TO  UNO 

Thou  art!— The  Lotus-Land  the  poet  sung, 

It  is  the  Child- World  while  the  heart  beats  young.  .  .  , 

While  the  heart  beats  young !— O  the  splendor  of  the  Spring, 

With  all  her  dewy  jewels  on,  is  not  so  fair  a  thing! 

The  fairest,  rarest  morning  of  the  blossom-time  of  May 

Is  not  so  sweet  a  season  as  the  season  of  to-day 

While  Youth's  diviner  climate  folds  and  holds  us,  close  caressed, 

As  we  feel  our  mothers  with  us  by  the  touch  of  face  and  breast;— 

Our  bare  feet  in  the  meadows,  and  our  fancies  up  among 

The  airy  clouds  of  morning— while  the  heart  beats  young. 

While  the  heart  beats  young  and  our  pulses  leap  and  dance, 
With  every  day  a  holiday  and  life  a  glad  romance,— 
We  hear  the  birds  with  wonder,  and  with  wonder  watch  their  flight- 
Standing  still  the  more  enchanted,  both  of  hearing  and  of  sight, 
When  they  have  vanished  wholly,— for,  in  fancy,  wing-to-wing 
We  fly  to  Heaven  with  them;  and,  returning,  still  we  sing 
The  praises  of  this  lower  Heaven  with  tireless  voice  and  tongue, 
Even  as  the  Master  sanctions— while  the  heart  beats  young. 

While  the  heart  beats  young!— While  the  heart  beats  young! 
O  green  and  gold  old  Earth  of  ours,  with  azure  overhung 
And  looped  with  rainbows !— grant  us  yet  this  grassy  lap  of  thine— 
We  would  be  still  thy  children,  through  the  shower  and  the  shine  1 

55 


tNOET  BIXLER 

So  pray  we,  Hsplng,  whispering,  In  childish  love  and  trust 

With  our  beseeching  hands  and  faces  lifted  from  the  dust 
By  fervor  of  the  poem,  all  unwritten  and  unsung, 
Thou  givest  us  in  answer,  while  the  heart  beats  young;. 

ANOTHER  hero  of  those  youthful  years 
Returns,  as  Noey  Bixler's  name  appears. 
And  Noey— if  in  any  special  way- 
Was  notably  good-natured. — Work  or  play 
He  entered  into  with  selfsame  delight — 
A  wholesome  interest  that  made  him  quite 
As  many  friends  among  the  old  as  young,— 
So  everywhere  were  Noey's  praises  sung. 

And  he  was  awkward,  fat  and  overgrown, 

With  a  round  full-moon  face,  that  fairly  shone 

As  though  to  meet  the  simile's  demand. 

And,  cumbrous  though  he  seemed,  both  eye  and  hand 


NOET  AND  HIS  GIFTS 

Were  dowered  with  the  discernment  and  deft  skill 
Of  the  true  artisan :    He  shaped  at  will, 
In  his  old  father's  shop,  on  rainy  days, 
Little  toy-wagons,  and  curved-runner  sleighs ; 
The  trimmest  bows  and  arrows — fashioned,  too. 
Of  "  seasoned  timber,"  such  as  Noey  knew 
How  to  select,  prepare,  and  then  complete, 
And  call  his  little  friends  in  from  the  street. 
"  The  very  lest  bow,"  Noey  used  to  say, 
"  Haint  made  o'  ash  ner  hick'ry  thataway! — 
But  you  git  mulberry — the  J^rm'-tree, 
Now  mind  ye!  and  you  fetch  the  piece  to  me, 
And  lem  me  git  it  seasoned;  then,  i  gum! 
I'll  make  a  bow  'at  you  kin  brag  on  some! 
Er — ef  you  can't  git  mulberry, — you  bring 
Me  a?  old  locus'  hitch-post,  and  i  jing ! 
I'll  make  a  bow  o'  that  'at  common  bows 
Won't  dast  to  pick  on  ner  turn  up  their  nose ! " 
57 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

And  Noey  knew  the  woods,  and  all  the  trees, 
And  thickets,  plants  and  myriad  mysteries 
Of  swamp  and  bottom-land.  And  he  knew  where 
The  ground-hog  hid,  and  why  located  there.— 
He  knew  all  animals  that  burrowed,  swam, 
Or  lived  in  tree-tops :  And,  by  race  and  dam, 
He  knew  the  choicest,  safest  deeps  wherein 
Fish-traps  might  flourish  nor  provoke  the  sin 
Of  theft  in  some  chance  peeking,  prying  sneak, 
Or  town-boy,  prowling  up  and  down  the  creek. 
All  four-pawed  creatures  tamable — he  knew 
Their  outer  and  their  inner  natures  too; 
While  they,  in  turn,  were  drawn  to  him  as  by 
Some  subtle  recognition  of  a  tie 
Of  love,  as  true  as  truth  from  end  to  end, 
Between  themselves  and  this  strange  human  friend. 
The  same  with  birds— he  knew  them  every  one, 
And  he  could  "name  them,  too,  without  a  gun." 

58 


THEIR   LOVES'    WHEREFORE 

No  wonder  Johnty  loved  him,  even  to 
The  verge  of  worship.— Noey  led  him  through 
The  art  of  trapping  redbirds— yes,  and  taught 
Him  how  to  keep  them  when  he  had  them  caught- 
What  food  they  needed,  and  just  where  to  swing 
The  cage,  if  he  expected  them  to  sing. 

And  Bud  loved  Noey,  for  the  little  pair 
Of  stilts  he  made  him ;  or  the  stout  old  hair 
Trunk  Noey  put  on  wheels,  and  laid  a  track 
Of  scantling-railroad  for  it  in  the  back 
Part  of  the  barn-lot;  or  the  cross-bow,  made 
Just  like  a  gun,  which  deadly  weapon  laid 
Against  his  shoulder  as  he  aimed,  and — "Sping!" 
He'd  hear  the  rusty  old  nail  zoon  and  sing — 
And  $>!  your  Mr.  Bluejay's  wing  would  drop 
A  farewell-feather  from  the  old  tree-top! 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

And  Maymie  loved  him,  for  the  very  small 
But  perfect  carriage  for  her  favorite  doll— 
A  lady's  carriage— not  a  baby-cab,— 
But  oilcloth  top,  and  two  seats,  lined  with  drab 
And  trimmed  with  white  lace-paper  from  a  case 
Of  shaving-soap  his  uncle  bought  some  place 
At  auction  once. 

And  Alex  loved  him  yet 
The  best,  when  Noey  brought  him,  for  a  pet, 
A  little  flying-squirrel,  with  great  eyes- 
Big  as  a  child's:  And,  childlike  otherwise, 
It  was  at  first  a  timid,  tremulous,  coy, 
Retiring  little  thing  that  dodged  the  boy 
And  tried  to  keep  in  Noey's  pocket ;— till, 
In  time,  responsive  to  his  patient  will, 
It  became  wholly  docile,  and  content 
With  its  new  master,  as  he  came  and  went,- 


60 


TUNELESS   WHISTLING 

The  squirrel  clinging  flatly  to  his  breast, 
Or  sometimes  scampering  its  craziest 
Around  his  body  spirally,  and  then 
Down  to  his  very  heels  and  up  again. 

And  Little  Li^ie  loved  him,  as  a  bee 

Loves  a  great  ripe  red  apple— utterly, 

For  Noey's  ruddy  morning-face  she  drew 

The  window-blind,  and  tapped  the  window,  too; 

Afar  she  hailed  his  coming,  as  she  heard 

His  tuneless  whistling — sweet  as  any  bird 

It  seemed  to  her,  the  one  lame  bar  or  so 

Of  old  "  Wait  for  the  Wagon  "—hoarse  and  low 

The  sound  was,— so  that,  all  about  the  place, 

Folks  joked  and  said  that  Noey  "whistled  bass"- 

The  light  remark  originally  made 

By  Cousin  Rufus,  who  knew  notes,  and  played 


61 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

The  flute  with  nimble  skill,  and  taste  as  well, 
And,  critical  as  he  was  musical, 
Regarded  Noey's  constant  whistling  thus 
"  Phenominally  unmelodious." 
Likewise  when  Uncle  Mart,  who  shared  the  love 
Of  jest  with  Cousin  Rufus  hand-in-glove, 
Said  "Noey  couldn't  whistle  'Bonny  Doon' 
Even !  and,  hid  bet,  couldn't  carry  a  tune 
If  it  had  handles  to  it!" 

— But  forgive 

The  deviations  here  so  fugitive, 
And  turn  again  to  Little  Lizzie,  whose 
High  estimate  of  Noey  we  shall  choose 
Above  all  others. — And  to  her  he  was 
Particularly  lovable  because 
He  laid  the  woodland's  harvest  at  her  feet- 
He  brought  her  wild  strawberries,  honey-sweet 


WINTER  RESOURCES 

And  dewy-cool,  in  mats  of  greenest  moss 
And  leaves,  all  woven  over  and  across 
With  tender,  biting  "tongue-grass,"  and  " sheep-sour," 
And  twin-leaved  beach-mast,  prankt  with  bud  and  flower 
Of  every  gypsy-blossom  of  the  wild, 
Dark,  tangled  forest,  dear  to  any  child.— 
All  these  in  season.    Nor  could  barren,  drear, 
White  and  stark-featured  Winter  interfere 
With  Noey's  rare  resources:    Still  the  same 
He  blithely  whistled  through  the  snow  and  came 
Beneath  the  window  with  a  Fairy  sled ; 
And  Little  Lizzie,  bundled  heels-and-head, 
He  took  on  such  excursions  of  delight 
As  even  "Old  Santy"  with  his  reindeer  might 
Have  envied  her!     And,  later,  when  the  snow 
Was  softening  toward  Springtime  and  the  glow 
Of  steady  sunshine  smote  upon  it,— then 
Came  the  magician  Noey  yet  again— 
63 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

While  all  the  children  were  away  a  day 
Or  two  at  Grandma's! — and  behold  when  they 
Got  home  once  more ;— there,  towering  taller  than 
The  doorway— stood  a  mighty,  old  Snow-Man! 

A  thing  of  peerless  art — a  masterpiece 

Doubtless  unmatched  by  even  classic  Greece 

In  heyday  of  Praxiteles.— Alone 

It  loomed  in  lordly  grandeur  all  its  own. 

And  steadfast,  too,  for  weeks  and  weeks  it  stood, 

The  admiration  of  the  neighborhood 

As  well  as  of  the  children  Noey  sought 

Only  to  honor  in  the  work  he  wrought. 

The  traveler  paid  it  tribute,  as  he  passed 

Along  the  highway— paused  and,  turning,  cast 

A  lingering,  last  look — as  though  to  take 

A  vivid  print  of  it,  for  memory's  sake, 


THE  APPRENTICE  POET 

To  lighten  all  the  empty,  aching  miles 

Beyond  with  brighter  fancies,  hopes  and  smiles. 

The  cynic  put  aside  his  biting  wit 

And  tacitly  declared  in  praise  of  it; 

And  even  the  apprentice-poet  of  the  town 

Rose  to  impassioned  heights,  and  then  sat  down 

And  penned  a  panegyric  scroll  of  rhyme 

That  made  the  Snow-Man  famous  for  all  time. 

And  though,  as  now,  the  ever  warmer  sun 
Of  summer  had  so  melted  and  undone 
The  perishable  figure  that — alas  ! — 
Not  even  in  dwindled  white  against  the  grass 
Was  left  its  latest  and  minutest  ghost, 
The  children  yet — materially,  almost — 
Beheld  it— circled  'round  it  hand-in-hand— 
(Or  rather  'round  the  place  it  used  to  stand)— 


"A  NOTED  TRAVELER" 

With  "  Ring-a-round-a-rosy !    Bottle  full 

O'  posey !  "  and,  with  shriek  and  laugh,  would  pull 

From  seeming  contact  with  it— just  as  when 

It  was  the  real-est  of  old  Snow-Men. 

EVEN  in  such  a  scene  of  senseless  play 

The  children  were  surprised  one  summer-day 

By  a  strange  man  who  called  across  the  fence, 

Inquiring  for  their  father's  residence; 

And,  being  answered  that  this  was  the  place, 

Opened  the  gate,  and  with  a  radiant  face, 

Came  in  and  sat  down  with  them  in  the  shade 

And  waited— till  the  absent  father  made 

His  noon  appearance,  with  a  warmth  and  zest 

That  told  he  had  no  ordinary  guest 

In  this  man  whose  low-spoken  name  he  knew 

At  once,  demurring  as  the  stranger  drew 


PERS  ON  A  L  CHA  RA  C  TERIS  TICS 

A  stuffy  notebook  out  and  turned  and  set 
A  big  fat  finger  on  a  page  and  let 
The  writing  thereon  testify  instead 
Of  further  speech.    And  as  the  father  read 
All  silently,  the  curious  children  took 
Exacting  inventory  both  of  book 
And  man:— He  wore  a  long-napped  white  fur- hat 
Pulled  firmly  on  his  head,  and  under  that 
Rather  long  silvery  hair,  or  iron-gray — 
For  he  was  not  an  old  man, — anyway, 
Not  beyond  sixty.    And  he  wore  a  pair 
Of  square-framed  spectacles— or  rather  there 
Were  two  more  than  a  pair, — the  extra  two 
Flared  at  the  corners,  at  the  eyes'  side-view, 
In  as  redundant  vision  as  the  eyes 
Of  grasshoppers  or  bees  or  dragonflies. 
Later  the  children  heard  the  father  say 
He  was  "A  Noted  Traveler,"  and  would  stay 
67 


A  CHILD-WORLD 

Some  days  with  them— In  which  time  host  and  guest 

Discussed,  alone,  in  deepest  interest, 

Some  vague,  mysterious  matter  that  defied 

The  wistful  children,  loitering  outside 

The  spare-room  door.    There  Bud  acquired  a  quite 

New  list  of  big  words — such  as  "  Disunite," 

And  "  Shibboleth,"  and  "Aristocracy," 

And  "Juggernaut,"  and  "Squatter  Sovereignty," 

And  "Anti-slavery,"  "Emancipate," 

"Irrepressible  conflict,"  and  "The  Great 

Battle  of  Armageddon  "—obviously 

A  pamphlet  brought  from  Washington,  D.  C., 

And  spread  among  such  friends  as  might  occur 

Of  like  views  with  "The  Noted  Traveler." 


68 


A  PROSPECTIVE  VISIT 

\1  7HILE  any  day  was  notable  and  dear 

That  gave  the  children  Noey,  history  here 
Records  his  advent  emphasized  indeed 
With  sharp  italics,  as  he  came  to  feed 
The  stock  one  special  morning,  fair  and  bright, 
When  Johnty  and  Bud  met  him,  with  delight 
Unusual  even  as  their  extra  dress — 
Garbed  as  for  holiday,  with  much  excess 
Of  proud  self-consciousness  and  vain  conceit 
In  their  new  finery.— Far  up  the  street 
They  called  to  Noey,  as  he  came,  that  they, 
As  promised,  both  were  going  back  that  day 
To  his  house  with  him! 

And  by  time  that  each 

Had  one  of  Noey's  hands — ceasing  their  speech 
And  coyly  anxious,  in  their  new  attire, 
To  wake  the  comment  of  their  mute  desire,— 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Noey  seemed  rendered  voiceless.    Quite  a  while 
They  watched  him  furtively.— He  seemed  to  smile 
As  though  he  would  conceal  it;  and  they  saw 
Him  look  away,  and  his  lips  purse  and  draw 
In  curious,  twitching  spasms,  as  though  he  might 
Be  whispering,— while  in  his  eye  the  white 
Predominated  strangely.— Then  the  spell 
Gave  way,  and  his  pent  speech  burst  audible: 
"  They  wuz  two  stylish  little  boys, 

and  they  wuz  mighty  bold  ones, 
Had  two  new  pairs  o'  britches  made 

out  o*  their  daddy's  old  ones!" 
And  at  the  inspirational  outbreak, 
Both  joker  and  his  victims  seemed  to  take 
An  equal  share  of  laughter,— and  all  through 
Their  morning  visit  kept  recurring  to 
The  funny  words  and  jingle  of  the  rhyme 
That  just  kept  getting  funnier  all  the  time. 
70 


AT  NOEY'S  HOUSE 

AT  NOEY'S  house — when  they  arrived  with  him — 
How  snug  seemed  everything,  and  neat  and  trim 
The  little  picket-fence,  and  little  gate — 
It's  little  pulley,  and  its  little  weight,— 
All  glib  as  clock-work,  as  it  clicked  behind 
Them,  on  the  little  red  brick  pathway,  lined 
With  little  paint-keg-vases  and  teapots 
Of  wee  moss-blossoms  and  forgetmenots : 
And  in  the  windows,  either  side  the  door, 
Were  ranged  as  many  little  boxes  more 
Of  like  old-fashioned  larkspurs,  pinks  and  moss 
And  fern  and  phlox ;  while  up  and  down  across 
Them  rioted  the  morning-glory-vines 
On  taut-set  cotton-strings,  whose  snowy  lines 
7* 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Whipt  in  and  out  and  under  the  bright  green 
Like  basting-threads;  and,  here  and  there  between, 
A  showy,  shiny  hollyhock  would  flare 
Its  pink  among  the  white  and  purple  there.— 
And  still  behind  the  vines,  the  children  saw 
A  strange,  bleached,  wistful  face  that  seemed  to  draw 
A  vague,  indefinite  sympathy.    A  face 
It  was  of  some  newcomer  to  the  place.— 
In  explanation,  Noey,  briefly,  said 
That  it  was  "  Jason,'*  as  he  turned  and  led 
The  little  fellows  'round  the  house  to  show 
Them  his  menagerie  of  pets.    And  so 
For  quite  a  time  the  face  of  the  strange  guest 
Was  partially  forgotten,  as  they  pressed 
About  the  squirrel-cage  and  rousted  both 
The  lazy  inmates  out,  though  wholly  loath 
To  whirl  the  wheel  for  them.— And  then  with  awe 
They  walked  'round  Noey's  big  pet  owl,  and  saw 
72 


THE  OWL,  THE  TERRAPIN  AND  BOLIVUR 

Him  film  his  great,  clear,  liquid  eyes  and  stare 
And  turn  and  turn  and  turn  his  head  'round  there 
The  same  way  they  kept  circling— as  though  he 
Could  turn  it  one  way  thus  eternally* 

Behind  the  kitchen,  then,  with  special  pride 

Noey  stirred  up  a  terrapin  inside 

The  rain-barrel  where  he  lived,  with  three  or  four 

Little  mud-turtles  of  a  size  not  more 

In  neat  circumference  than  the  tiny  toy 

Dumb-watches  worn  by  every  little  boy. 

Then,  back  of  the  old  shop,  beneath  the  tree 
Of  "rusty-coats,"  as  Noey  called  them,  he 
Next  took  the  boys,  to  show  his  favorite  new 
Pet  'coon— pulled  rather  coyly  into  view 
Up  through  a  square  hole  in  the  bottom  of 
An  old  inverted  tub  he  bent  above, 
73 


A   CHILD-WORLD 

Yanking  a  little  chain,  with  "Hey!  you,  sir! 

Here's  company  come  to  see  you,  Bolivurl" 

Explanatory,  he  went  on  to  say, 

"I  named  him  * Bolivur'  jes  thisaway,-— 

He  looks  so  round  and  ovalish  and  fat, 

'  Feared  like  no  other  name  'ud  fit  but  that" 

Here  Noey's  father  called  and  sent  him  on 
Some  errand.    "Wait,"  he  said— "  I  won't  be  gone 
A  half  a'  hour.— Take  Bud,  and  go  on  in 
Where  Jason  is,  tel  I  git  back  agin." 

Whoever  Jason  was,  they  found  him  there 
Still  at  the  front-room  window.— By  his  chair 
leaned  a  new  pair  of  crutches;  and  from  one 
Knee  down,  a  leg  was  bandaged.—"  Jason  done 
That-air  with  one  o*  these-'ere  tools  we  call 
A  *  shin-hoe ' — -but  a  foot-ad^  mostly  all 
74 


JASON 

Mwftp0r*-store-keepers  calls  'em."— (Hoey  made 
This  explanation  later.) 

Jason  paid 

But  little  notice  to  the  boys  as  they 
Came  in  the  room :— An  idle  volume  lay 
Upon  his  lap— the  only  book  in  sight— 
And  Johnty  read  the  title,—"  Light,  More  Light, 
There's  Danger  in  the  Dark,"— though  first  and  best- 
In  fact,  the  whole  of  Jason's  interest 
Seemed  centered  on  a  little  dog— one  pet 
Of  Noey's  all  uncelebrated  yet — 
Though  Jason,  certainly,  avowed  his  worth, 
And  niched  him  over  all  the  pets  on  earth- 
As  the  observant  Johnty  would  relate 
The  /^sow-episode,  and  imitate 
The  all-enthusiastic  speech  and  air 
Of  Noey's  kinsman  and  his  tribute  there  :— 


75 


"THAT  LITTLE  DOG" 

"  THAT  little  dog  >ud  scratch  at  that  door 
And  go  on  a-whinin'  two  hours  before 
He'd  ever  let  up!     There!— Jane:  Let  him  in.— 
(Hah,  there,  you  little  rat !)    Look  at  him  grin  I 
Come  down  off  o'  that!— 
W'y,  look  at  him  !    (Drat 
You!  you-rascal-you  !)— bring  me  that  hat! 
Look  out!—  He'll  snap  you!— He  wouldn't  let 
You  take  it  away  from  him,  now  you  kin  bet! 
That  little  rascal's  jist  natchurly  mean.— 
I  tell  you,  I  never  (Git  out!!)  never  seen 
A  spunkier  little  rip !     (Scratch  to  git  in, 
And  now  yer  a-scratchin*  to  git  out  agin ! 
Jane:  Let  him  out!)    Now,  watch  him  from  here 
Out  through  the  winder!— You  notice  one  ear 
Kindo'  *«side-o«/,  like  he  holds  it?— Well, 
He's  got  a  tick  in  it—/  kin  tell  I 


CANINE  SAGACITT 

Yes,  and  he's  cunnln'— - 

Jist  watch  him  a-runnin', 
Sidelin'—see !— like  he  ain't  'plum'd  true' 
And  legs  don't  'track'  as  they'd  ort  to  dot- 
Plowin'  his  nose  through  the  weeds— -I  jing! 
Ain't  he  jist  cuter'n  anything ! 

"  W'y>  that  little  dog's  got  grown~veapie?s  sense  1- 
See  how  he  gits  out  under  the  fence?— 
And  watch  him  a-whettins  his  hind-legs  'fore 
His  dead  square  run  of  a  miled  er  more— 
'Cause  Noey's  a-comin',  and  Trip  allus  knows 
When  Noey's  a-comin'— and  off  he  goes!— 
Putts  out  to  meet  him  and — There  they  come  now i 
Well-sir!   it's  raially  singalar  how 

That  dog  kin  tell,— 

But  he  knows  as  well 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

When  Noey's  a<omin'  home!— Reckon  his  smell 
*Ud  carry  two  miled?— You  needn't  to  smile— 
He  runs  to  meet  him,  ever'-once-n-a-while, 
Two  miled  and  over — when  he's  slipped  away 
And  left  him  at  home  here,  as  he's  done  to-day— 
Thout  ever  knowin'  where  Noey  wuz  goin>— 
But  that  little  dog  allus  hits  the  right  way! 
Hear  him  a-whinin'  and  scratchin*  agin?— 
{Little  tormentin'  fice  f)     Jane :  Let  him  in. 

"—You  say  he  ain't  there?— 

Well  now,  I  declare!—- 

Lem  me  limp  out  and  look !    .  .  .  I  wunder  where  - 
Heuh,  Trlpl—Heuh,  Tripl—Heuh,  Trip!  .  .  .  There- 
There  he  is!— Little  sneak!— What-a'-you- 'bout?— 
There  he  is— quiled  up  as  meek  as  a  mouse, 
His  tail  turnt  up  like  a  teakittle-spout, 
A-sunnin*  hisse'f  at  the  side  o*  the  house! 
78 


L&T  HIM 


Next  time  you  scratch,  sir,  you'll  haf  to  git  in, 

My  fine  little  feller,  the  best  way  you  kin  ! 

—  Noey  he  learns  him  sich  capers  !—  And  they- 

Both  of  Jem's  ornrier  every  day!— 

Both  tantalizin'  and  meaner'n  sin— 

Allus  a—  (Listen  there!)—  Jane  :  Let  him  in. 

"_O!  yer  so  innocent!  hangin1  yer  head!— 
(Drat  ye!  you'd  better  git  under  the  bed!) 
—Listen  at  that!— 

He's  tackled  the  cat!-— 

Hah,  there  !  you  little  rip  !  come  out  o'  that  I— 
Git  yer  blame  little  eyes  scratched  out 
'Fore  you  know  what  yer  talkin'  about!  — 
Here!  come  away  from  there!  —  (Let  him  alone— 
He'll  snap^ow,  I  tell  ye,  as  quick  as  a  bone!) 
Hi,  Trip  !—  Hey,  here  !—  What-a'-you-'bout  !— 
Oo!  ouch!  JL1  I'll  be  blamed  \-Blastye!    GIT  OUT! 
79 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

...  O,  it  ain't  nothin'— jist  scratched  me,  you  see.- 
Hadn't  no  idy  he'd  try  to  bite  me! 
Plague  take  him  /—Bet  he'll  not  try  that  agin !— 
Hear  him  yelp.— (/V*  feller /)  Jane:  Let  him  in." 


H 


THE  LOEHRS  AND  THE  HAMMONDS 

EY,  Bud !    O  Bud  I "  rang  out  a  gleeful  call,— • 

"  The  Loehrs  is  come  to  your  house  !  "    And  a  small 
But  very  much  elated  little  chap, 
In  snowy  linen-suit  and  tasseled  cap, 
Leaped  from  the  back-fence  just  across  the  street 
From  Bixlers',  and  came  galloping  to  meet 
His  equally  delighted  little  pair 
Of  playmates,  hurrying  out  to  join  him  there— 
"  The  Loehrs  is  come!— The  Loehrs  is  come!"  his  glee 
Augmented  to  a  pitch  of  ecstasy 
Communicated  wildly,  till  the  cry 
"The  Loehrs  is  come!"  in  chorus  quavered  high 
And  thrilling  as  some  pasan  of  challenge  or 
Soul-stirring  chant  of  armied  conqueror. 
«  81 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

And  who  this  avant  courier  of  "the  Loehrs"?— 

This  happiest  of  all  boys  out-o'-doors  — 

Who  but  Will  Pierson,  with  his  heart's  excess 

Of  summer-warmth  and  light  and  breezinessl 

"  From  our  front  winder  I  'uz  first  to  see 

'Em  all  a-drivin'  into  town  ! "  bragged  he — 

"  An'  seen  'em  turnin'  up  the  alley  where 

Your  folks  lives  at.    An'  John  an'  Jake  wuz  there 

Both  in  the  wagon  ; — yes,  an*  Willy,  too ; 

An'  Mary— Yes,  an'  Edith — with  bran-new 

An'  purtiest-trimmed  hats  'at  ever  wuz! — 

An'  Susan,  an'  Janey. — An'  the  Hammonds-u^ 

In  their  fine  buggy  'at  they're  ridin'  roun* 

So  much,  all  over  an'  aroun'  the  town 

An'  mr'wheres, — them  «/?-people  who's 

A-visutin'  at  Loehrs-uz!" 

Glorious  news!— 


THE  GIRL  FRIEND 

Even  more  glorious  when  verified 
In  the  boys'  welcoming  eyes  of  love  and  pride, 
As  one  by  one  they  greeted  their  old  friends 
And  neighbors.— Nor  until  their  earth-life  ends 
Will  that  bright  memory  become  less  bright 
Or  dimmed  indeed. 

.  .  .  Again,  at  candle-light, 
Tlie  faces  all  are  gathered.    And  how  glad 
The  Mother's  features,  knowing  that  she  had 
Her  dear,  sweet  Mary  Loehr  back  again.— 
She  always  was  so  proud  of  her;  and  then 
The  dear  girl,  in  return,  was  happy,  too, 
And  with  a  heart  as  loving,  kind  and  true 
As  that  maturer  one  which  seemed  to  blend 
As  one  the  love  of  mother  and  of  friend. 
From  time  to  time,  as  hand-in-hand  they  sat, 
The  fair  girl  whispered  something  low,  whereat 


A   CHILD-WORLD 

A  tender,  wistful  look  would  gather  in 
The  mother-eyes ;  and  then  there  would  begin 
A  sudden  cheerier  talk,  directed  to 
The  stranger  guests— the  man  and  woman  who, 
It  was  explained,  were  coming  now  to  make 
Their  temporary  home  in  town  for  sake 
Of  the  wife's  somewhat  failing  health.    Yes,  they 
Were  city-people,  seeking  rest  this  way, 
The  man  said,  answering  a  query  made 
By  some  well  meaning  neighbor — with  a  shade 
Of  apprehension  in  the  answer  ....  No, — 
They  had  no  children.    As  he  answered  so, 
The  man's  arm  went  about  his  wife,  and  she 
Leant  toward  him,  with  her  eyes  lit  prayerfully ; 
Then  she  arose — he  following — and  bent 
Above  the  little  sleeping  innocent 
Within  the  cradle  at  the  mother's  side- 
He  patting  her,  all  silent,  as  she  cried.— 
84 


THE  SILENT  POEM 

Though,  haply,  in  the  silence  that  ensued, 
His  musings  made  melodious  interlude. 

In  the  warm,  health -giving  weather 
My  poor  pale  wife  and  I 

Drive  up  and  down  the  little  town 
And  the  pleasant  roads  thereby: 

Out  in  the  wholesome  country 
We  wind,  from  the  main  highway, 

In  through  the  wood's  green  solitudes- 
Fair  as  the  Lord's  own  Day. 

We  have  lived  so  long  together, 
And  joyed  and  mourned  as  one, 

That  each  with  each,  with  a  look  for  speech, 
Or  a  touch,  may  talk  as  none 

But  Love's  elect  may  comprehend- 
Why,  the  touch  of  her  hand  on  mine 

Speaks  volume-wise,  and  the  smile  of  her  eyes. 
To  me,  is  a  song  divine. 

There  are  many  places  that  lure  us :-» 
"The  Old  Wood  Bridge"  just  west 

Of  town  we  know — and  the  creek  below, 
And  the  banks  the  boys  love  best: 
85 


A    CHILD-WORLD 


And  "Beech  Grove,"  too,  on  the  hill-top; 

And  "The  Haunted  House"  beyond, 
With  its  roof  half  off,  and  its  old  pump-trough 

Adrift  in  the  roadside  pond. 

We  find  our  way  to  "  The  Marshes  "— 

At  least  where  they  used  to  be; 
And  "  The  Old  Camp  Grounds  "  ;  and  "  The  Indian  Mounds, 

And  the  trunk  of  "  The  Council  Tree : " 
We  have  crunched  and  splashed  through  "Flint-bed  Ford"; 

And  at  "Old  Big  Bee-gum  Spring" 
We  have  stayed  the  cup,  half  lifted  up, 

Hearing*  the  redbird  sing. 

And  then,  there  is  "  Wesley  Chapel,'" 

With  its  little  graveyard,  lone 
At  the  crossroads  there,  though  the  sun  sets  fair 

On  wild-rose,  mound  and  stone    .    .    . 
A  wee  bed  under  the  willows— 

My  wife's  hand  on  my  own— 
And  our  horse  stops,  too    ;    .    .    And  we  hear  the  coo 

Of  a  dove  in  undertone. 


A  SUMMONS  FROM  FLORETTT 

The  dusk,  the  dew,  and  the  silence? 

"Old  Charley"  turns  his  head 
Homeward  then  by  the  pike  again, 

Though  never  a  word  is  said- 
One  more  stop,  and  a  lingering  one-» 

After  the  fields  and  farms,— 
At  the  old  Toll  Gate,  with  the  woman  await 

With  a  little  girl  in  her  arms. 

The  silence  sank— Floretty  came  to  call 
The  children  in  the  kitchen,  where  they  all 
Went  helter-skeltering  with  shout  and  din 
Enough  to  drown  most  sanguine  silence  in,— 
For  well  indeed  they  knew  that  summons  meant 
Taffy  and  popcorn— so  with  cheers  they  went. 


T 


THE  HIRED  MAN  AND  FLORETTY 

HE  Hired  Man's  supper,  which  he  sat  before, 

In  near  reach  of  the  wood-box,  the  stove-door 
And  one  leaf  of  the  kitchen-table,  was 
Somewhat  belated,  and  in  lifted  pause 
His  dextrous  knife  was  balancing  a  bit 
Of  fried  mush  near  the  port  awaiting  it. 

At  the  glad  children's  advent — gladder  still 
To  find  him  there— "  Jest  tickled  fit  to  kill 
To  see  ye  all ! "  he  said,  with  unctious  cheer.— 
'  I'm  tryinMike  to  he'p  Floretty  here 
To  git  things  cleared  away  and  give  ye  room 
Accordin'  to  yer  stren'th.    But  I  p'sume 
It's  a  pore  boarder,  as  the  poet  says, 
That  quarrels  with  his  victuals,  so  I  guess 
88 


THE  HIRED  MAN 

I'll  take  another  wedge  o'  that-air  cake, 
Florett1,  that  you're  a-learnin'  how  to  bake." 
He  winked  and  feigned  to  swallow  painfully. — 

"Jest  'fore  ye  all  come  in,  Floretty  she 
Was  boastin'  'bout  her  biscuits — and  they  air 
As  good — sometimes — as  you'll  find  anywhere. — 
But,  women  gits  to  braggin'  on  their  bread, 
I'm  s'picious  'bout  their  pie — as  Danty  said." 
This  raillery  Floretty  strangely  seemed 
To  take  as  compliment,  and  fairly  beamed 
With  pleasure  at  it  all. 

— "Speakin'  o'  brtad— 

When  she  come  here  to  live,"  The  Hired  Man  said,- 
"  Never  ben  out  o'  Freeport  'fore  she  come 
Up  here,— of  course  she  needed  ^sperience  some.— 
So,  one  day,  when  yer  Ma  was  goin'  to  set 
The  risin'  fer  some  bread,  she  sent  Floretf 
89 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

To  borry  leaven,  'crost  at  Ryans'— So, 
She  went  and  asked  fer  twelve.— She  didn't  know, 
But  thought,  whatever  'twuz,  that  she  could  keep 
One  fer  her  si f,  she  said.     O  she  wuz  deep ! " 

Some  little  evidence  of  favor  hailed 

The  Hired  Man's  humor;  but  it  wholly  failed 

To  touch  the  serious  Susan  Loehr,  whose  air 

And  thought  rebuked  them  all  to  listening  there 

To  her  brief  history  of  the  city-man 

And  his  pale  wife— "A  sweeter  woman  than 

She  ever  saw!"— So  Susan  testified,— 

And  so  attested  all  the  Loehrs  beside.— 

So  entertaining  was  the  history,  that 

The  Hired  Man,  in  the  corner  where  he  sat 

In  quiet  sequestration,  shelling  corn, 

Ceased  wholly,  listening,  with  a  face  forlorn 


90 


THE  HAMMONDS 

As  Sorrow's  own,  while  Susan,  John  and  Jake 
Told  of  these  strangers  who  had  come  to  make 
Some  weeks'  stay  in  the  town,  in  hopes  to  gain 
Once  more  the  health  the  wife  had  sought  in  vain 
Their  doctor,  in  the  city,  used  to  know 
The  Loehrs— Dan  and  Rachel— years  ago,-— 
And  so  had  sent  a  letter  and  request 
For  them  to  take  a  kindly  interest 
In  favoring  the  couple  all  they  could — 
To  find  some  home-place  for  them,  if  they  would, 
Among  their  friends  in  town.     He  ended  by 
A  dozen  further  lines,  explaining  why 
His  patient  must  have  change  of  scene  and  air — 
New  faces,  and  the  simple  friendships  there 
With  them,  which  might,  in  time,  make  her  forget 
A  grief  that  kept  her  ever  brooding  yet 
And  wholly  melancholy  and  depressed, — 
Nor  yet  could  she  find  sleep  by  night  nor  rest 
91 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

By  day,  for  thinking— thinking— thinking  still 
Upon  a  grief  beyond  the  doctor's  skill,— 
The  death  of  her  one  little  girl. 

"Pore  thing!" 

Floretty  sighed,  and  with  the  turkey-wing 
Brushed  off  the  stove-hearth  softly,  and  peered  in 
The  kettle  of  molasses,  with  her  thin 
Voice  wandering  into  song  unconsciously— 
In  purest,  if  most  witless,  sympathy. — 

'"Then  sleep  no  more: 

Around  thy  heart 
Some  ten-der  dream  may  i-dlee  play, 

But  mid-night  song. 

With  mad-jick  art, 
Will  chase  that  dree  muh-way!'" 

"That-air  besetment  of  Floretty's,"  said 
The  Hired  Man,— "singin'— she  inhairited,—* 
Her  father  wuz  addicted— same  as  her— 
To  singin'— yes,  and  played  the  dulcimer! 
9> 


THE  HIRED  MAN'S  PHILOSOPHY 

But— gittin'  back,— I  s'pose  yer  talkin'  'bout 
Them  Hammondses.    Well,  Hammond  he  gits  out 
Patients  on  things— inventions-like,  I'm  told— 
And's  got  more  money'n  a  house  could  hold! 
And  yit  he  can't  git  up  no  pattent-right 
To  do  away  with  dyin\— And  he  might 
Be  worth  a  million,  but  he  couldn't  find 
Nobody  sellin'  health  of  any  kind!  .  .  . 
But  they's  no  thing  onhandier  fer  me 
To  use  than  other  people's  misery.— 
Floretty,  hand  me  that-air  skillet  there 
And  lem  me  git  'er  het  up,  so's  them-air 
Childern  kin  have  their  popcorn." 

It  was  good 

To  hear  him  now,  and  so  the  children  stood 
Closer  about  him,  waiting. 

"Things  to  tat," 

The  Hired  Man  went  on,  "  's  mighty  hard  to  beat! 
93 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Now,  when  /  wuz  a  boy,  we  was  so  pore, 
My  parunts  couldn't  'ford  popcorn  no  more 
To  pamper  me  with ; — so,  I  hat  to  go 
Without  popcorn— sometimes  a  year  er  so  !— 
And  suffer'*?  saints !  how  hungry  I  would  git 
Per  jest  one  other  chance— like  this — at  it! 
Many  and  many  a  time  I've  dreamp\  at  night. 
About  popcorn, — all  busted  open  white, 
And  hot,  you  know — and  jest  enough  o'  salt 
And  butter  on  it  fer  to  find  no  fault — 
OomhJ— Well!  as  1  was  goin'  on  to  say, — 
After  a-dreamin'  of  it  thataway, 
Then  havin'  to  wake  up  and  find  it's  all 
A  dream,  and  hain't  got  no  popcorn  at-tall, 
Ner  haint  had  none— I'd  think,  '  Well,  wheris  the  use/f 
And  jest  lay  back  and  sob  the  plaster'n'  loose! 
And  I  have  prayed,  whatever  happened,  it 
'Ud  eether  be  popcorn  er  death !  .  .  .  .  And  yit 
94 


OUT  IN  THE  NIGHT-AIR 

I've  noticed— more'n  likely  so  have  you— 

That  things  don't  happen  when  you  want  'era  to." 

And  thus  he  ran  on  artlessly,  with  speech 

And  work  in  equal  exercise,  till  each 

Tureen  and  bowl  brimmed  white.    And  then  he  greased 

The  saucers  ready  for  the  wax,  and  seized 

The  fragrant-steaming  kettle,  at  a  sign 

Made  by  Floretty;  and,  each  child  in  line, 

He  led  out  to  the  pump— where,  in  the  dim 

New  coolness  of  the  night,  quite  near  to  him 

He  felt  Floretty's  presence,  fresh  and  sweet 

As  ....  dewy  night-air  after  kitchen-heat 

There,  still,  with  loud  delight  of  laugh  and  jest, 
They  plied  their  subtle  alchemy  with  zest — 
Till,  sudden,  high  above  their  tumult,  welled 
Out  of  the  sitting-room  a  song  which  held 
95 


A   CHILD-WORLD 

Them  stilled  in  some  strange  rapture,  listening 
To  the  sweet  blur  of  voices  chorusing: — 

"  '  When  twilight  approaches  the  season 

That  ever  is  sacred  to  song, 
Does  some  one  repeat  my  name  over. 

And  sigh  that  I  tarry  so  long? 
And  is  there  a  chord  in  the  music 

That's  missed  when  my  voice  is  away?— 
And  a  chord  in  each  heart  that  awakens 
Regret  at  my  wearisome  stay-ay — 
Regret  at  my  wearisome  stay.'" 

All  to  himself,  The  Hired  Man  thought—"  Of  course 
They'll  sing  Floretty  homesick  1 " 

.  .  .  O  strange  source 
Of  ecstasy!  O  mystery  of  Song! — 
To  hear  the  dear  old  utterance  flow  along : — 

" '  Do  they  set  me  a  chair  near  the  table 

When  evening's  home-pleasures  are  nigh?— 
When  the  candles  are  lit  in  the  parlor, 
And  the  stars  In  the  calm  azure  sky.' "  .  .  .  , 

96 


THE  POWER  OF  MUSIC 

Just  then  the  moonlight  sliced  the  porch  slantwise, 

And  flashed  in  misty  spangles  in  the  eyes 

Floretty  clenched— while  through  the  dark—"  I  jing ! " 

A  voice  asked,  "  Where's  that  song  l you'd  learn  to  sing 

Ef  I  sent  you  the  ballat  ?  '—which  I  done 

Last  I  was  home  at  Freeport. — S'pose  you  run 

And  git  it— and  we'll  all  go  in  to  where 

They'll  know  the  notes  and  sing  it  fer  ye  there. w 

And  up  the  darkness  of  the  old  stairway 

Floretty  fled,  without  a  word  to  say — 

Save  to  herself  some  whisper  muffled  by 

Her  apron,  as  she  wiped  her  lashes  dry. 

Returning,  with  a  letter,  which  she  laid 
Upon  the  kitchen-table  while  she  made 
A  hasty  crock  of  "float,"— poured  thence  into 
A  deep  glass  dish  of  iridescent  hue 


97 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

And  glint  and  sparkle,  with  an  overflow 

Of  froth  to  crown  it,  foaming  white  as  snow. 

And  then— poundcake,  and  jelly-cake  as  rare, 

For  its  delicious  complement, — with  air 

Of  Hebe  mortalized,  she  led  her  van 

Of  votaries,  rounded  by  The  Hired  Man. 


98 


THE  EVENING  COMPANY 

II  7ITHIN  the  sitting-room,  the  company 

Had  been  increased  in  number.    Two  or  three 
Young  couples  had  been  added:   Emma  King, 
Ella  and  Mary  Mathers— all  could  sing 
Like  veritable  angels— Lydia  Martin,  too, 
And  Nelly  Millikan.— What  songs  they  knew  !— 

"'Ever  of  Thee — wherever  I  may  be, 
Fondly  I'm  drca-m-ing  ever  of  tbee  1 ' " 

And  with  their  gracious  voices  blend  the  grace 
Of  Warsaw  Barnett's  tenor;  and  the  bass 
Unfathomed  of  Wick  Chapman— Fancy  still 
Can  feel,  as  well  as  hear  it,  thrill  on  thrill, 
Vibrating  plainly  down  the  backs  of  chairs 
And  through  the  wall  and  up  the  old  hall-stairs.- 
99 


: 
A    CHILD-WORLD 


Indeed  young  Chapman's  voice  especially 
Attracted  Mr.  Hammond — For,  said  he, 
Waiving  the  most  Elysian  sweetness  of 
The  ladies'  voices — altitudes  above 
The  man's  for  sweetness; — but — as  contrast,  would 
Not  Mr.  Chapman  be  so  very  good 
As,  just  now,  to  oblige  all  with— in  fact, 
Some  sort  of  jolly  song, — to  counteract 
In  part,  at  least,  the  sad,  pathetic  trend 
Of  music  generally.     Which  wish  our  friend 
"The  Noted  Traveler'*  made  second  to 
With  heartiness — and  so  each,  in  review, 
Joined  in — until  the  radiant  lasso  cleared 
His  wholly  unobstructed  throat  and  peered 
Intently  at  the  ceiling — voice  and  eye 
As  opposite  indeed  as  earth  and  sky. — 
Thus  he  uplifted  his  vast  bass  and  let 
It  roam  at  large  the  memories  booming  yet: 
100 


WICK  CHAPMAN'S  BASS 

Oi '  Old  Simon  the  Cellarer  keeps  a  rare  store 

Of  Malmsey  and  Malvoi-sie, 
Of  Cyprus,  and  who  can  say  how  many  more?— 
But  a  chary  old  soul  is  he-e-ee— 

A  chary  old  so-u-1  is  he! 
Of  hock  and  Canary  he  never  doth  fail ; 
And  all  the  year  'round,  there  is  brewing  of  ale  ;— 
Yet  he  never  aileth,  he  quaintly  doth  say. 
While  he  keeps  to  his  sober  six  flagons  a  day."  " 

.  .  .  And  then  the  chorus— the  men's  voices  all 
Warred  in  it — like  a  German  Carnival.— 
Even  Mrs.  Hammond  smiled,  as  in  her  youth, 
Hearing  her  husband — And  in  veriest  truth 
"The  Noted  Traveler's"  ever-present  hat 
Seemed  just  relaxed  a  little,  after  that, 
As  at  conclusion  of  the  Bacchic  song 
He  stirred  his  "float"  vehemently  and  long. 

Then  Cousin  Rufus  with  his  flute,  and  art 

Blown  blithely  through  it  from  both  soul  and  heart — 

1 01 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Inspired  to  heights  of  mastery  by  the  glad, 

Enthusiastic  audience  he  had 

In  the  young  ladies  of  a  town  that  knew 

No  other  flutist, — nay,  nor  wanted  to, 

Since  they  had  heard  his  "Polly  Hopkin's  Waltz," 

Or  "Ricketfs  Hornpipe,"  with  its  faultless  faults, 

As  rendered  solely,  he  explained,  "by  ear," 

Having  but  heard  it  once,  Commencement  Year, 

At  "Old  Ann  Arbor." 

Little  Maymie  now 

Seemed  "friends"  with  Mr.  Hammond — anyhow, 
Was  lifted  to  his  lap— where  settled,  she- 
Enthroned  thus,  in  her  dainty  majesty, 
Gained  universal  audience — although 
Addressing  him  alone: — "I'm  come  to  show 
You  my  new  Red-blue  pencil ;   and  she  says  "— 
(Pointing  to  Mrs.  Hammond)— "that  she  guess1 
You'll  make  a  picture  fer  me." 

102 


AN  IMPROMPTU  ARTIST 

"And  what  Una, 

Of  picture?"  Mr.  Hammond  asked,  inclined 
To  serve  the  child  as  bidden,  folding  square 
The  piece  of  paper  she  had  brought  him  there. — 
"I  don't  know,"  Maymie  said— -"only  ist  make 

A  little  dirl,  like  me ! " 

He  paused  to  take 

A  sharp  view  of  the  child,  and  then  he  drew— 
Awhile  with  red,  and  then  awhile  with  blue— 
The  outline  of  a  little  girl  that  stood 
In  converse  with  a  wolf  in  a  great  wood ; 
And  she  had  on  a  hood  and  cloak  of  red — 
As  Maymie  watched—"/?^  Riding  Hood!"  she  said. 
"And  who's  'Red  Riding  Hood'?" 

"WVi  don't  you  know?14 
Asked  little  Maymie— 

But  the  man  looked  so 
All  uninformed,  that  little  Maymie  could 

But  tell  him  all  about  Red  Riding  Hood, 
103 


MAYMIE'S  STORY  OF   RED  RIDING  HOOD 

\1/'Y,  one  time  wuz  a  little-weenty  dirl, 

An'  she  wuz  named  Red  Riding  Hood,  'cause  her- 
Her  Ma  she  maked  a  little  red  cloak  fer  her 
'At  turnt  up  over  her  head — An*  it  'uz  all 
1st  one  piece  o'  red  cardinul  'at  's  like 
The  drate-long  stockin's  the  store-keepers  has.-— 
O!   it  'uz  purtiest  cloak  in  all  the  world 
An'  all  this  town  er  anywheres  they  is ! 
An'  so,  one  day,  her  Ma  she  put  it  on 
Red  Riding  Hood,  she  did — one  day,  she  did— 
An'  it  'uz  Sunday— 'cause  the  little  cloak 
It  'uz  too  nice  to  wear  ist  ever*  day 
An'  all  the  time! — An*  so  her  Ma,  she  put 
It  on  Red  Riding  Hood— an'  telled  her  no* 
104 


MATMI&S   STORT  OF  RED  RIDING  HOOD 

To  dit  no  dirt  on  it  ner  dit  it  mussed 

Ner  nothin' !   An'— an'— nen  her  Ma  she  dot 

Her  little  basket  out,  'at  Old  Kriss  bringed 

Her  wunst — one  time,  he  did.    And  nen  she  fill' 

It  full  o'  whole  lots  an*  'bundance  o'  good  things  t'  eat 

(Allus  my  Dran'ma  she  says  '  'bundance,'  too.) 

An'  so  her  Ma  fill'  little  Red  Riding  Hood's 

Nice  basket  all  ist  full  o'  dood  things  t'  eat, 

An'  tell  her  take  'em  to  her  old  Dran'ma — 

An'  not  to  spill  'em,  neever — 'cause  ef  she 

'Ud  stump  her  toe  an'  spill  'em,  her  Dran'ma 

She'll  haf  to  punish  her ! 

An'  nen — An'  so 

Little  Red  Riding  Hood  she  p'omised  she 
'Ud  be  all  careful  nen  an'  cross'  her  heart 
'At  she  wont  run  an'  spill  'em  all  fer  six — 
Five — ten — two-hundred-bushel-dollars-gold! 
An'  nen  she  kiss  her  Ma  doo'-bye  an'  went 
105 


A   CHILD-WORLD 

A-skippin'  off— away  fur  off  frough  the 

Big  woods,  where  her  Dran'ma  she  live  at— No!— 

She  didn't  do  a-sUppin\  like  I  said  :— 

She  ist  went  walkin* — careful-like  an*  slow — 

1st  like  a  little  lady— walkin'  'long 

As  all  polite  an*  nice — an*  slow — an'  straight— 

An'  turn  her  toes— ist  like  she's  marchin'  in 

The  Sund'ySchool  k-session! 

AnJ — an* — so 

She  'uz  a-doin'  along— an*  doin*  along— 
On  frough  the  drate  big  woods— 'cause  her  Dran'ma 
She  live  'way,  'way  fur  off  frough  the  big  woods 
From  her  Ma's  house.    So  when  Red  Riding  Hood 
She  dit  to  do  there,  allus  have  most  fun— 
When  she  do  frough  the  drate  big  woods,  you  know.- 
'Cause  she  ain't  feared  a  bit  o'  anything ! 
An'  so  she  sees  the  little  hoppty-birds 
'At's  in  the  trees,  an'  flyin'  all  around, 
106 


MATMI&S   STORT  OF"  RED  RIDING  HOOD 

An*  singin*  dlad  as  ef  their  parunts  said 

They'll  take  'em  to  the  magic-lantern  show! 

An*  she  'ud  pull  the  purty  flowers  an'  things 

A-growin'  round  the  stumps — An*  she  'ud  ketch 

The  purty  butterflies,  an'  drasshoppers, 

An'  stick  pins  frough  'em — No! — 1  ist  said  that! — 

'Cause  she's  too  dood  an'  kind  an'  'bedient 

To  hurt  things  thataway. — She'd  ketch  'em,  though, 

An'  ist  play  wiv  'em  ist  a  little  while, 

An'  nen  she'd  let  'em  fly  away,  she  would, 

An'  ist  skip  on  adin  to  her  Dran'ma's. 

An*  so,  while  she  uz  doin*  Mong  an'  'long, 
First  thing  you  know  they  'uz  a  drate  big  old 
Mean  wicked  Wolf  jumped  out  'at  wanted  t'  eat 
Her  up,  but  dassent  to — 'cause  wite  clos't  there 
They  wuz  a  Man  a-choppin*  wood,  an'  you 
Could  hear  him.— So  the  old  Wolf  he  'uz  'feared 
107 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Only  to  1st  be  kind  to  her.— So  he 

1st  'tended  like  he  wuz  dood  friends  to  her 

An'  says  "  Dood-morning,  little  Red  Riding  Hood !  "- 

All  ist  as  kind ! 

An*  nen  Riding  Hood 

She  say  "Dood-morning,"  too— all  kind  an*  nice— 
Ist  like  her  Ma  she  learn'— No!— mustn't  say 
"Learn,"  cause  "Learn"  it's  unproper.— So  she  say 
It  like  her  Ma  she  "leached"  her.— An'— so  she 
Ist  says  "Dood-morning"  to  the  Wolf— 'cause  she 
Don't  know  ut-tall  'at  he's  a  wicked  Wolf 
An'  want  to  eat  her  up ! 

Nen  old  Wolf  smile 

An'  say,  so  kind:    "Where  air  you  doin;  at?" 
Nen  little  Red  Riding  Hood  she  says :    "  I'm  doin' 
To  my  Dran'ma's,  'cause  my  Ma  say  I  might.** 


108 


MATMI&S   STORT  OF  RED  RIDING  HOOD 

Nen,  when  she  tell  him  that,  the  old  Wolf  he 
1st  turn  an'  light  out  frough  the  big  thick  woods, 
Where  she  can't  see  him  any  more.    An  so 
She  think  he's  went  to  his  house— but  he  haint,— 
He's  went  to  her  Dran'ma's,  to  be  there  first — 
An*  ketch  her,  ef  she  don't  watch  mighty  sharp 
What  she's  about  1 

An'  nen  when  the  old  Wolf 
Dit  to  her  Dran'ma's  house,  he's  purty  smart,— 
An"  so  he  "tend-like  his  Red  Riding  Hood, 
An*  knock  at  thj  door.    An'  Riding  Hood's  Dran'ma 
She's  sick  in  bed  an*  can't  come  to  the  door 
An*  open  it.    So  th"  old  Wolf  knock  two  times. 
An'  nen  Red  Riding  Hood's  Dran'ma  she  says 
"  Who's  there?"  she  says.   An'  old  Wolf  'tends-like  he's 
Little  Red  Riding  Hood,  you  know,  an'  make' 
His  voice  soun'  ist  like  hers,  anv  says :    "  It's  me, 


•09 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Dran'ma— an*  I'm  Red  Riding  Hood  an*  I'm 
1st  come  to  see  you." 

Nen  her  old  Dran'ma 
She  think  it  is  little  Red  Riding  Hood, 
An'  so  she  say;    "Well,  come  in  nen  an*  make 
You'se'f  at  home,"  she  says,  "  'cause  I'm  down  sick 
In  bed,  and  got  the  'ralgia,  so's  I  can't 
Dit  up  an*  let  ye  in." 

An'  so  th'  old  Wolf 

1st  march*  in  nen  an*  shet  the  door  adin, 
An'  drowl,  he  did,  an'  splunge  up  on  the  bed 
An'  et  up  old  Miz  Riding  Hood  'fore  she 
Could  put  her  specs  on  an'  see  who  it  wuz.~ 
An'  so  she  never  knowed  who  et  her  up! 

An'  nen  the  wicked  Wolf  he  ist  put  on 
Her  nightcap,  an'  all  covered  up  in  bed- 
Like  he  wuz  her,  you  know, 
no 


MA  YMI&S  STORY  OF  RED  RIDING  HOOD 

Nen,  purty  soon 

Here  come  along  little  Red  Riding  Hood, 
An'  she  knock'  at  the  door.    An'  old  Wolf  'tend 
Like  his  her  Dran'ma;  an'  he  say,  "Who's  there?" 
1st  like  her  Dran'ma  say,  yon,  know.    An*  so 
Little  Red  Riding  Hood  she  say  "  It's  me, 
Dran'ma— an'  I'm  Red  Riding  Hood  and  I'm 
1st  come  to  see  you." 

An'  nen  old  Wolf  nen 

He  cough  an*  say:    "  Well,  come  in  nen  an'  make 
You'se'f  at  home,"  he  says,  "  'cause  I'm  down  sick 
In  bed,  an'  got  the  'ralgia,  so's  I  can't 
Ditupan'  let  ye  in." 

An'  so  she  think 

It's  her  Dran'ma  a-talkin'.—  So  she  ist 
Open'  the  door  an'  come  in,  an'  set  down 
Her  basket,  an'  taked  off  her  things,  an'  bringed 
A  chair  an'  clumbed  up  on  the  bed,  wite  by 
III 


A  CHILD-WORLD 

The  old  big  Wolf  she  thinks  is  her  Dran'ma.— 
Only  she  thinks  the  old  Wolf's  dot  whole  lots 
More  bigger  ears,  an'  lots  more  whiskers,  too, 
Than  her  Dran'ma;  an'  so  Red  Riding  Hood 
She's  kindo'  skeered  a  little.    So  she  says 
"  Oh,  Dran'ma,  what  big  eyes  you  dot !  "    An'  nen 
The  old  Wolf  says :    "  They're  ist  big  thataway 
'Cause  I'm  so  dlad  to  see  you !  " 

Nen  she  says, — 

" Oh,  Dran'ma,  what  a  drate  big  nose  you  dot!  " 
Nen  th'  old  Wolf  says :    "  It's  ist  big  thataway 
Ist  'cause  I  smell  the  dood  things  'at  you  bringed 
Me  in  the  basket !" 

An'  nen  Riding  Hood 

She  say  "Oh-me-oh-wjj>/  Dran'ma!  what  big 
White  long  sharp  teeth  you  dot !  " 

Nen  old  Wolf  says 

"  Yes — an'  they're  thataway,"  he  says — an'  drowled — 
112 


MA  YMI&S  STORY  OF  RED  RIDING  HOOD 

"They're  thataway,"  he  says,  "to  eat  you  wiv! " 

An'  nen  he  istjump'  at  her. — 

But  she  screant— 

An'  screant,  she  did— So's  'at  the  Man 

'At  wuz  a-choppin'  wood,  you  know,— he  hear, 

An'  come  a-runnin'  in  there  wiv  his  ax ; 

An',  'fore  the  old  Wolf  know' what  he's  about, 

He  split  his  old  brains  out  an'  killed  him  s'quick 

It  make'  his  head  swim !— An'  Red  Riding  Hood 

She  wuzn't  hurt  at  all ! 

An'  the  big  Man 

He  tooked  her  all  safe  home,  he  did,  an'  tell 
Her  Ma  she's  all  right  an'  ain't  hurt  at  all 
An'  old  Wolf's  dead  an'  killed— an'  ever'thing  !— 
So  her  Ma  wuz  so  tickled  an'  so  proud, 
She  divved  him  all  the  dood  things  t'  eat  they  wuz 
'At's  in  the  basket,  an'  she  tell  him  'at 
She's  much  oblige',  an'  say  to  "call  adin." 
An'  story's  honest  truth—an1  all  so,  too  I 
113 


T 


LIMITATIONS  OF  GENIUS 

HE  audience  entire  seemed  pleased— indeed 
Extremely  pleased.    And  little  Maymie,  freed 
From  her  task  of  instructing,  ran  to  show 
Her  wondrous  colored  picture  to  and  fro 
Among  the  company. 

"And  how  comes  it,"  said 
Some  one  to  Mr.  Hammond,  "that,  instead 
Of  the  inventor's  life  you  did  not  choose 
The  artist's .?— since  the  world  can  better  lose 
A  cutting-box  or  reaper  than  it  can 
A  noble  picture  painted  by  a  man 
Endowed  with  gifts  this  drawing  would  suggest  "— 
Holding  the  picture  up  to  show  the  rest. 
"  There  now ! "  chimed  in  the  wife,  her  pale  face  lit 
Like  winter  snow  with  sunrise  over  it,— 

"4 


MR.  HAMMOND  CATECHISED 

"That's  what  7'm  always  asking  him.— But  he- 
Well)  as  he's  answering  you,  he  answers  me,-— 
With  that  same  silent,  suffocating  smile 
He's  wearing  now !  " 

For  quite  a  little  while 
No  further  speech  from  anyone,  although 
All  looked  at  Mr.  Hammond  and  that  slow, 
Immutable,  mild  smile  of  his.    And  then 
The  encouraged  querist  asked  him  yet  again 
Why  was  it,  and  etcetera— with  all 
The  rest,  expectant,  waiting  'round  the  wall,— 
Until  the  gentle  Mr.  Hammond  said 
He'd  answer  with  a  "parable,"  instead— 
About  "a  dreamer"  that  he  used  to  know— 
"An  artist"— "master"— all— in  embryo* 


115 


H 


MR.  HAMMOND'S  PARABLE 

THE  DREAMER 
I 

E  was  a  Dreamer  of  the  Days: 
Indolent  as  a  lazy  breeze 
Of  midsummer,  in  idlest  ways 

Lolling  about  in  the  shade  of  trees. 
The  farmer  turned— as  he  passed  him  by 

Under  the  hillside  where  he  kneeled 
Plucking  a  flower— with  scornful  eye 

And  rode  ahead  in  the  harvest  field 
Muttering—"  Lawz  !  ef  that-air  shirk 

Of  a  boy  was  mine  fer  a  week  er  so, 
He'd  quit  dreamin*  and  git  to  work 

And  aim  his  livin'— er— Well  1  /  knowl" 
And  even  kindlier  rumor  said, 
Tapping  with  finger  a  shaking  head,— 
116 


MR.  HAMMOND'S  PARABLE 

"  Got  such  a  curious  kind  o'  way— 
Wouldn't  surprise  me  much,  I  say!" 

Lying  limp,  with  upturned  gaze 
Idly  dreaming  away  his  days. 
No  companions?    Yes,  a  book 
Sometimes  under  his  arm  he  took 
To  read  aloud  to  a  lonesome  brook. 

And  school-boys,  truant,  once  had  heard 
A  strange  voice  chanting,  faint  and  dim — 
Followed  the  echoes,  and  found  it  him, 

Perched  in  a  tree-top  like  a  bird, 
Singing,  clean  from  the  highest  limb; 
And,  fearful  and  awed,  they  all  slipped  by 
To  wonder  in  whispers  if  he  could  fly. 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

*'  Let  him  alone ! "  his  father  said 

When  the  old  schoolmaster  came  to  say, 
"  He  took  no  part  in  his  books  to-day- 
Only  the  lesson  the  readers  read.— 
His  mind  seems  sadly  going  astray ! " 

"  Let  him  alone ! "  came  the  mournful  tone, 
And  the  father's  grief  in  his  sad  eyes  shom 
Hiding  his  face  in  his  trembling  hand, 
Moaning,  "Would  I  could  understand! 
But  as  heaven  wills  it  I  accept 
Uncomplainingly !  "    So  he  wept. 

Then  went  "  The  Dreamer  "  as  he  willed, 
As  uncontrolled  as  a  light  sail  filled 
Flutters  about  with  an  empty  boat 
Loosed  from  its  moorings  and  afloat; 
Drifted  out  from  the  busy  quay 
Of  dull  school-moorings  listlessly; 
118 


MR,  HAMMOND'S  PARABLE 

Drifted  off  on  the  talking  breeze, 
All  alone  with  his  reveries ; 
Drifted  on,  as  his  fancies  wrought— 
Out  on  the  mighty  gulfs  of  thought. 

II 

The  farmer  came  in  the  evening  gray 

And  took  the  bars  of  the  pasture  down ; 
Called  to  the  cows  in  a  coaxing  way, 
"  Bess  "  and  "  Lady  "  and  "  Spot "  and  "  Brown,*1 
While  each  gazed  with  a  wide-eyed  stare, 
As  though  surprised  at  his  coming  there- 
Till  another  tone,  in  a  higher  key, 
Brought  their  obeyance  lothfully. 

Then,  as  he  slowly  turned  and  swung 
The  topmost  bar  to  its  proper  rest, 
Something  fluttered  along  and  clung 

An  instant,  shivering  at  his  breast— 
119 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

A  wind-scared  fragment  of  legal  cap, 
Which  darted  again,  as  he  struck  his  hand 

On  his  sounding  chest  with  a  sudden  slap, 
And  hurried  sailing  across  the  land, 
But  as  it  clung  he  had  caught  the  glance 
Of  a  little  penciled  countenance, 
And  a  glamour  of  written  words ;  and  hence, 
A  minute  later,  over  the  fence, 
Here  and  there  and  gone  astray 
Over  the  hills  and  far  away," 
He  chased  it  into  a  thicket  of  trees 
And  took  it  away  from  the  captious  breeze. 

A  scrap  of  paper  with  a  rhyme 
Scrawled  upon  it  of  summertime  i 
A  pencil-sketch  of  a  dairy-maid, 
Under  a  farmhouse  porch's  shade, 


120 


MR.  HAMMOND'S  PARABLE 

Working  merrily;  and  was  blent 
With  her  glad  features  such  sweet  content, 
That  a  song  she  sung  in  the  lines  below 
Seemed  delightfully  apropos:— 

SONG 

"Why  do  I  sing— Tra-la-la-la-la I 
Glad  as  a  King?— Tra-la-la-la-la! 
Well,  since  you  ask, — 
I  have  such  a  pleasant  task, 
1  can  not  help  but  sing  1 

"Why  do  I  smile— Tra-la-la-la-la! 

Working  the  while?— Tra-la-la-la-la  i 
Work  like  this  Is  play,— 
So  I'm  playing  all  the  day— 

1  can  not  help  but  smile  1 

"So,  If  you  please— Tra-la-la-la-la! 
Live  at  your  ease!— Tra-la-la-la-la  I 

You've  only  got  to  turn. 

And,  you  see,  its  bound  to  churn—* 
I'  can  not  help  but  please  1 " 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

The  farmer  pondered  and  scratched  his  head, 

Reading  over  each  mystic  word. — 
"  Some  o*  the  Dreamer's  work !  "  he  said — 
"Ah,  here's  more — and  name  and  date 
In  his  hand-write' !  "—And  the  good  man  read, 
"'  Patent  applied  for,  July  third, 

Eighteen  hundred  and  forty-eight ' !  " 
The  fragment  fell  from  his  nerveless  grasp-- 
His  awed  lips  thrilled  with  the  joyous  gasp : 
"  I  see  the  p'int  to  the  whole  concern,— 
He's  studied  out  a  patent  churn ! " 


522 


FLORETTY'S  MUSICAL  CONTRIBUTION 

A  LL  seemed  delighted,  though  the  elders  more, 

Of  course,  than  were  the  children.— Thus,  before 
Much  interchange  of  mirthful  compliment, 
The  story-teller  said  his  stories  "went" 
(Like  a  bad  candle)  best  when  they  went  out,— 
And  that  some  sprightly  music,  dashed  about, 
Would  wholly  quench  his  "glimmer,"  and  inspire 
Far  brighter  lights. 

And,  answering  this  desire, 
The  flutist  opened,  in  a  rapturous  strain 
Of  rippling  notes — a  perfect  April-rain 
Of  melody  that  drenched  the  senses  through  ;— 
Then— gentler— gentler— as  the  dusk  sheds  dew, 
It  fell,  by  velvety,  staccatoed  halts, 
Swooning  away  in  old  "  Von  Weber's  Waltz.1* 
123 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Then  the  young  ladies  sang  "Isle  of  the  Sea"— 
In  ebb  and  flow  and  wave  so  billowy, — 
Only  with  quavering  breath  and  folded  eyes 
The  listeners  heard,  buoyed  on  the  fall  and  rise 
Of  its  insistent  and  exceeding  stress 

Of  sweetness  and  ecstatic  tenderness 

With  lifted  finger^/,  Remembrance — List! — 
" Beautiful  isle  of  the  sea!"  wells  in  a  mist 
Of  tremulous.  ,  ,  ,  . 

,  .  .  .  After  much  whispering 
Among  the  children,  Alex  came  to  bring 
Some  kind  of  letter — as  it  seemed  to  be- 
To  Cousin  Rufus.     This  he  carelessly 
Unfolded — reading  to  himself  alone,— 
But,  since  its  contents  became,  later,  known, 
And  no  one  "plagued  so  awful  bad,"  the  same 
May  here  be  given — of  course  without  full  iiame, 


124 


A  MUSICAL  INCLOSURR 

Fac-simile,  or  written  kink  or  curl 
Or  clue.    It  read  :— 

"Wild  Roved  an  Indian  Girl 
Brite  al  Floretty" 

deer  freind 

i  now  take 

4Wr  These  means  to  send  that  Song  to  you  &  make 
my  Promus  good  to  you  in  the  Regards 
Of  doing  What  i  Promust  afterwards, 
the  notes  &  Words  is  both  here  Printed  sos 
you  tefr  can  git  uncle  Mart  to  read  you  -them'  those 
&  cousin  Rufus  you  can  git  to  Play 
the  notes  fur  you  on  eny  Plezunt  day 
His  Legul  Work  aint  Proooin.  Pressing. 

Ever  thine 

As  shore  as  the  Vine 
doth  the  Stump  intwine 
thou  art  my  Lump  of  Sackkerrine 
Rinaldo  Rinaldine 
the  Pirut  in  Captivity. 

There  dropped 

Another  square  scrap.— But  the  hand  was  stopped 
125 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

That  reached  for  it — Floretty  suddenly 
Had  set  a  firm  foot  on  her  property- 
Thinking  it  was  the  letter,  not  the  song<~~ 
But  blushing  to  discover  she  was  wrong, 
When,  with  all  gravity  of  face  and  air, 
Her  precious  letter  handed  to  her  there 
By  Cousin  Rufus  left  her  even  more 
In  apprehension  than  she  was  before. 
But,  testing  his  unwavering,  kindly  eye, 
She  seemed  to  put  her  last  suspicion  by, 
And,  in  exchange,  handed  the  song  to  him.— - 

A  page  torn  from  a  song-book :    Small  and  dim 
Both  notes  and  words  were— but  as  plain  as  day 
They  seemed  to  him,  as  he  began  to  play— 
And  plain  to  all  the  singers, — as  he  ran 
An  airy,  warbling  prelude,  then  began 
Singing  and  swinging  in  so  blithe  a  strain, 

That  every  voice  rang  in  the  old  refrain: 
126 


MOUNTAIN    MAIB'S.  INVITATION. 


ASEASeSB  Vt  3.x.  G00UX 


n  my  home  true  pleasure  share ;  Blossoms  swe«t.  fiow'rs  roost  nu 

~?*      t         !      r 
Itr  ..^ 

J?ea«-ty  all    „  -  roun-J:         ^f^j^^     *«  '*'  ^  T«    la    h    C   tra  la^laT" 


Come !  come !  come !  ' 
When  the  day's  gently  »'one 
Evening  shadows  coit»n'"f  ,* 
Then,  by  love,  kimllv  won,  ' 

Truest  bli-s  t,r  thin-  ' 


THE  JOKER    VANQUISHED 

From  the  beginning  of  the  song,  clean  through, 
Floretty's  features  were  a  study  to 
The  flutist  who  "  read  notes  "  so  readily, 
Yet  read  so  little  of  the  mystery 
Of  that  face  of  the  girl's.— Indeed  one  thing 
Bewildered  him  quite  into  worrying, 
And  that  was,  noticing,  throughout  it  all, 
The  Hired  Man  shrinking  closer  to  the  wall, 
She  ever  backing  toward  him  through  the  throng 
Of  barricading  children— till  the  song 
Was  ended,  and  at  last  he  saw  her  near 
Enough  to  reach  and  take  him  by  the  ear 
And  pinch  it  just  a  pang's  worth  of  her  ire 
And  leave  it  burning  like  a  coal  of  fire. 
He  noticed,  too,  in  subtle  pantomime 
She  seemed  to  dust  him  off,  from  time  to  time; 
And  when  somebody,  later,  asked  if  she 
Had  never  heard  the  song  before— "  What  1 
12? 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

She  said— then  blushed  again  and  smiled,— 

"  I've  knowed  that  song  sence  Adam  was  a  child  !— 

It's  jes  a  joke  o'  this-here  man's.— He's  learned 

To  read  and  write  a  little,  and  its  turned 

His  fool-head  some— That's  all  ! " 

And  then  some  one 

Of  the  loud  -wrangling  boys  said — "  Course  they's  none 
No  more,  these  days! — They's  Fairies  ust  to  be, 
But  they're  all  dead,  a  hunderd  years ! "  said  he. 

"Well,  there's  where  you're  mustakened!"~\n  reply 
They  heard  Bud's  voice,  pitched  sharp  and  thin  and  high.— 

"An*  how  you  goin'  to  prove  it ! " 

"Well,  I  kin!" 

Said 'Bud,  with  emphasis,— "  They's  one  lives  in 
Our  garden — and  I  see  Mm  wunst,  wiv  my 
Own  eyes— one  time  I  did." 

"OA,  what  aUe$" 

38 


A  MODERN  FA1RT 

"  Well,  nen,"  said  the  skeptic — seeing  there 
The  older  folks  attracted—"  Tell  us  where 
You  saw  him,  an'  all  '''bout  him ! ' 

"  Yes,  my  son. — 

If  you  tell  *  stories,'  you  may  tell  us  one," 
The  smiling  father  said,  while  Uncle  Mart, 
Behind  him,  winked  at  Bud,  and  pulled  apart 
His  nose  and  chin  with  comical  grimace — 
Then  sighed  aloud,  with  sanctimonious  face, — 
"  lHow  good  and  comely  it  is  to  see 

Children  and  parents  in  friendship  agree  !  *— 
You  fire  away,  Bud,  on  your  Fairy-tale— 
Your  Uncle's  here  to  back  you ! " 

Somewhat  pale. 

And  breathless  as  to  speech,  the  little  man 
Gathered  himself.    And  thus  his  story  ran. 


199 


BUD'S  FAIRY-TALE 

'OME  peoples  thinks  they  ain't  no  Fairies  now 
No  more  yet!— But  they  r$,  I  bet!    'Cause  ef 
They  wu^n't  Fairies,'  nen  V  like  to  know 
Who'd  w'ite  'bout  Fairies  in  the  books,  an'  tell 
What  Fairies  does,  an'  how  their  picture  looks, 
An'  all  an'  ever'thing !   W'y,  ef  they  don't 
Be  Fairies  anymore,  nen  little  boys 
'U'd  ist  sleep  when  they  go  to  sleep  an'  wont 
Have  ist  no  dweams  at  all,— 'Cause  Fairies— good 
Fairies— they're  a-purpose  to  make  dweams! 
But  they  is  Fairies — an'  I  know  they  is ! 
'Cause  one  time  wunst,  when  its  all  SummertimCi 
An'  don't  haf  to  be  no  fires  in  the  stove 
Er  fireplace  to  keep  warm  wiv— ner  don't  haf 
130 


BUD^S  f  AIRY-TALE 

To  wear  old  scwatchy  flannen  shirts  at  all, 

An'  aint  no  fweeze— ner  cold— ner  snow!— An'— an ' 

Old  skweeky  twees  got  all  the  gween  leaves  on 

An'  ist  keeps  noddin',  noddln'  all  the  time, 

Like  they  'uz  lazy  an'  a-twyin'  to  go 

To  sleep  an'  couldn't,  'cause  the  wind  won't  quit 

A-blowin'  in  'em,  an'  the  birds  won't  stop 

A-singin*  so's  they  kin. — But  twees  don't  sleep, 

I  guess!  But  little  boys  sleeps — an'  dweams,  too. — 

An'  that's  a  sign  they's  Fairies. 

So,  onetime, 

When  I  ben  playin' "  Store  "  wunst  over  in 
The  shed  of  their  old  stable,  an'  Ed  Howard 
He  maked  me  quit  a-bein'  pardners,  'cause 
I  dwinked  the  'tend-like  sody-waterup 
An'  et  the  shore-nuff  cwackers. — W'y,  nen  I 
Clumbed  over  in  our  garden  where  the  gwapes 
Wuz  purf -nigh  ripe  :    An'  I  wuz  ist  a-layin' 
131 


A  CHILD-WORLD 

There  on  th'  old  cwooked  seat  'at  Pa  maked  in 

Our  arber,— an*  so  I  'uz  layin'  there 

A-whittlin'  beets  wiv  my  new  dog-knife,  an' 

A-lookin'  wite  up  through  the  twimbly  leaves— 

An'  wuzn't  'sleep  at  all !— An'-sir!— first  thing 

You  know,  a  little  Fairy  hopped  out  there  1 

A  leetle-teenty  Fairy! — hope-may-die! 

An'  he  look'  down  at  me,  he  did — An*  he 

Ain't  bigger'n  a.yellerbird!—a.n'  he 

Say  "  Howdy-do ! "  he  did— an'  I  could  hear 

Him— ist  as  plain/ 

Nen  /  say  "  Howdy-do  I " 
An'  he  say  "Pm  all  hunkey,  Nibsey;  how 
\syour  folks  comin'  on?" 

An'  nen  I  say 

"My  name  ain't  'NibseyJ  neever— my  name's  Bud.- 
An'  what's^oMr  name?"  I  says  to  him. 


132 


BUD'S  FAIRY-TALE 


An1  he 

1st  laugh  an*  say  "  '  Bud's*  awful  /«««?  name  !  " 
An'  he  ist  laid  back  on  a  big  bunch  o'  gwapes 
An'  laugh*  an'  laugh',  he  did—  like  somebody 
'Uz  tick-el-un  his  feet! 

An'  nen  I  say  — 

"What's^r  name,"  nen  I  say,  "afore  you  bust 
Yo'-se'f  a-laughin'  'bout  my  name?  "    I  says. 
An'  nen  he  dwy  up  laughin'—  kindo'  mad— 
An'  say  "  W'y,  my  name's  Squidjicum"  he  says. 
An'  nen  /  laugh  an'  say—  "Gee!  what  a  name  !  " 
An'  when  I  make  fun  of  his  name,  like  that, 
He  ist  git  awful  mad  an'  spunky,  an' 
'Fore  you  know,  he  ist  gwabbed  holt  of  a  vine— 
A  big  long  vine  'at's  danglin'  up  there,  an' 
He  ist  helt  on  wite  tight  to  that,  an'  down 
He  swung  quick  past  my  face,  he  did,  an'  ist 
Kicked  at  me  hard's  he  could  1 
133 


A  CHILD-WORLD 

But  I'm  too  quick 

Per  Mr.  Squidjicum!   I  ist  weached  out 
An'  ketched  him,  in  my  hand — an'  helt  him,  too, 
An'  squeezed  him,  ist  like  little  wobins  when 
They  can't  fly  yet  an'  git  flopped  out  their  nest. 
An'  nen  I  turn  him  all  wound  over,  an' 
Look  at  him  clos't,  you  know— wite  clos't,— 'cause 
He  is  a  Fairy,  w'y,  I  want  to  see 
The  wings  he's  got.— But  he's  dwessed  up  so  fine 
'At  I  can't  see  no  wings.— An'  all  the  time 
He's  twyin'  to  kick  me  yet:    An'  so  I  take 
F'esh  holts  an'  squeeze  agin— an'  harder,  too; 
An'  I  says,  "Hold  up,  Mr.  Squidjicum! — 
You're  kickin'  the  w'ong  man ! "  I  says ;  an*  nen 
I  ist  squeeze'  him,  purt'-nigh  my  best,  I  did — 
An'  I  heerd  somepin'  bust!— An'  nen  he  cwied 
An'  says,  "  You  better  look  out  what  you're  doin'  ! 
You'  bust'  my  spiderweb-suspen'ners,  an* 
134 


BU&S  FAIRY-TALE 

You'  got  my  woseleaf-coat  all  cwlnkled  np 
So's  I  can't  go  to  old  Miss  Hoodjicum's 
Tea-party,  's'afternoon  1 " 

An'  nen  I  says— 
"Who's  'old  Miss  Hoodjicum'?"  I  says 

An' he 
Says  "  Ef  you  lemme  loose  I'll  tell  you." 

So 

I  helt  the  little  skeezics  'way  fur  out 
In  one  hand — so's  he  can't  jump  down  t'  th'  ground 
Wivout  a-gittin'  all  stove  up:  an'  nen 
I  says,  "  You're  loose  now. — Go  ahead  an'  tell 
'Bout  the  'tea-party'  where  you're  goin'  at 
So  awful  fast!"  I  says 

An*  nen  he  say,— 

"  No  use  to  tell  you  'bout  it,  'cause  you  won't 
Believe  it,  'less  you  go  there  your  own  se'f 
An'  see  it  wiv  your  own  two  eyes !  "  he  says. 
135 


A  CHILD-WORLD 

An*  ht  says:  "Ef  you  lemme  shore-nuff  loose, 
An'  p'omise  'at  you'll  keep  wite  still,  an*  won't 
Tetch  nothin'  'at  you  see— an'  never  tell 
Nobody  in  the  world— an'  iemme  loose— 
W'y,  nen  I'll  take  you  there !  " 

But  I  says,  "  Yes 

An'  ef  I  let  you  loose,  you'll  run!91  I  says. 
An'  he  says  "  No,  I  won't !— I  hope  may  die !  " 
Nen  I  says,  "  Cwoss  your  heart  you  won't !  " 

An' he 

1st  cwoss  his  heart;  an'  nen  I  weach  an'  set 
The  little  feller  up  on  a  long  vine— 
An'  he  'uz  so  tickled  to  git  loose  agin, 
He  gwab'  the  vine  wiv  boff  his  little  hands 
An'  ist  take  an'  turn  in,  he  did,  an'  skin 
'Bout  forty-'leven  cats  1 

Nen  when  he  git 

Through  whirlin'  wound  the  vine,  an'  set  on  top 
136 


BUD  '51  FAIR  Y-  TALE 

Of  it  agin,  w'y  nen  his  "woseleaf-coat" 

He  bwag  so  much  about,  it's  ist  all  tored 

Up,  an'  ist  hangin'  strips  an'  rags— so  he 

Look  like  his  Pa's  a  dwunkard.    An'  so  nen 

When  he  see  what  he's  done— a-actin>  up 

So  smart, — he's  awful  mad,  I  guess ;  an5  ist 

Pout  out  his  lips  an'  twis'  his  little  face 

Ist  ugly  as  he  kin,  an'  set  an'  tear 

His  whole  coat  off — an'  sleeves  an'  all. — An'  nen 

He  wad  it  all  togevver  an'  ist  throw 

It  at  me  ist  as  hard  as  he  kin  dwive ! 

An'  when  I  weach  to  ketch  him,  an'  'uz  goin' 
To  give  him  'nuvver  squeezing  he  htflewed 
Clean  up  on  top  the  arber! — 'Cause,  you  know, 
They  wu%  wings  on  him — when  he  tored  his  coat 
Clean  off — they  wu$  wings  under  there.     But  they 
Wuz  purty  wobbly-like  an'  wouldn't  work 

Hardly  at  all — 'Cause  purty  soon,  when  I 
137 


A  CHILD-WORLD 

Throwed  clods  at  him,  an'  sticks,  an'  got  him  shooed 
Down  off  o'  there,  he  come  a-floppin'  down 
An'  lit  k-bang !  on  our  old  chicken-coop, 
An'  ist  laid  there  a-whimper'n'  like  a  child! 
An'  I  tiptoed  up  wite  clos't,  an'  I  says  "What's 
The  matter  wiv  ye,  Squidjicum?" 

An' he 

Says :    "  Dog-gone!  when  my  wings  gits  stwaight  agin, 
Where  you  all  cwumpled  'em,"  he  says,  "I  bet 
I'll  ist  fly  clean  away  an'  won't  take  you 
To  old  Miss  Hoodjicum's  at  all!  "  he  says. 
An'  nen  I  ist  weach  out  wite  quick,  I  did, 
An'  gwab  the  sassy  little  snipe  agin— 
Nen  tooked  my  topstwing  an'  tie  down  his  wings 
So's  he  can't  fly,  'less'n  I  want  him  to! 
An'  nen  I  says:    "  Now,  Mr.  Squidjicum, 
You  better  ist  light  out,"  I  says,  "to  old 
Miss  Hoodjicum's,  an'  show  me  how  to  git 
138 


BUD'S  FAIRT-TALR 

There,  too,"  I  says ;   "  er  ef  you  don't,"  I  says, 
"  I'll  climb  up  wiv  you  on  our  buggy-shed 
An'  push  you  off !  "   I  says. 

An    nen  he  say 

All  wight,  he'll  show  me  there  i  an'  tell  me  nen 
To  set  him  down  wite  easy  on  his  feet, 
An'  loosen  up  the  stwing  a  little  where 
It  cut  him  under  th'  arms.     An'  nen  he  says, 
"Come  on!"  he  says; /an'  went  a-limpin'  'long 
The  garden-path — an'  limpin'  'long  an'  'long 
Tel — purty  soon  he  come  on  'long  to  where's 
A  grea'-big  cabbage-leaf.     An'  he  stoop  down 
An'  say  "  Come  on  inunder  here  wiv  me ! " 
So  /  stoop  down  an'  crawl  inunder  there, 
Like  he  say. 

An'  inunder  there's  a  grea' 
Big  clod,  they  is — a  awful  grea'  big  clod ! 
An'  nen  he  says,  "Roll  this-here  clod  away!" 
139 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

An'  so  I  roll'  the  clod  away.    An'  nen 
It's  all  wet,  where  the  dew'z  inunder  where 
The  old  clod  wuz,— an'  nen  the  Fairy  he 
Git  on  the  wet-place:    Nen  he  say  to  me 
"Git  on  the  wet-place,  too!"    An'  nen  he  say, 
"  Now  hold  yer  breff  an'  shet  yer  eyes ! "  he  says, 
"Tel  I  say  Squinchy-winchy ! "     Nen  he  say— 
Somepin  in  Dutch,  I  guess.— An'  nen  I  felt 
Like  we  'uz  sinkin'  down— an'  sinkin'  down  !— 
Tel  purty  soon  the  little  Fairy  weach 
An'  pinch  my  nose  an'  yell  at  me  an'  say, 
"Squinchj>-winch?  !    Look  wherever  you  please  !  " 
Nen  when  I  looked— Oh !  they  'uz  purtyest  place 
Down  there  you  ever  saw  in  all  the  World  !— 
They  'uz  ist  flowers  an'  woses — yes,  an'  twees 
Wiv  blossoms  on  an'  big  ripe  apples  boff! 
An'  butterflies,  they  wuz— an'  hummin '-birds— 
An'  yellowb'irds  an'  bluebirds— yes,  an'  red!— 
140 


BUD'S  FAIRY-TALE 

An'  ever'wheres  an'  all  awound  'uz  vines 
Wiv  ripe  p'serve-pears  on  'em!— Yes,  an*  all 
An'  ever'thing  'at's  ever  gwowin'  in 
A  garden— er  canned  up— all  ripe  at  wunst  1— 
It  wuz  ist  like  a  garden— only  it 
'Uz  little  bit  o'  garden— 'bout  big  wound 
As  ist  our  twun 'el-bed  is.— An'  all  wound 
An'  wound  the  little  garden's  a  gold  fence— 
An'  little  gold  gate,  too— an'  ash-hopper 
'At's  all  gold,  too— an'  ist  full  o'  gold  ashes  1 
An'  wite  in  th'  middle  o'  the  garden  wuz 
A  little  gold  house,  'at's  ist  'bout  as  big 
As  ist  a  bird-cage  is :    An'  in  the  house 
They  'uz  whole-lots  more  Fairies  there— 'cause  I 
Picked  up  the  little  house,  an  'peeked  in  at 
The  winders,  an'  I  see  'em  all  in  there 
Ist  buggin*  wound!    An'  Mr.  Squidjicum 
He  twy  to  make  me  quit,  but  I  gwab  htm, 
141 


A  CHILD-WORLD 

An'  poke  him  down  the  chimbly,  too,  I  did!— 
An*  y'ort  to  see  him  hop  out  'mongst  'em  there ! 
1st  like  he  'uz  the  boss  an'  1st  got  back  !— 
"Hain't ye  got  on  them-air  dew-dumplin' s  yet  ?  " 
He  says. 

An1  they  says  no. 

An*  nen  he  says 
"Better  git  at  'em  nen!"  he  says,  "wife  quick— 

'Cause  old  Miss  Hoodjicum's  a-comin'f" 

Nen 

They  all  set  wound  a  little  gold  tub — an* 
All  'menced  a-peelin'  dewdwops,  ist  like  they 
'\Jz  peaches.— An',  it  looked  so  funny,  I 
Ist  laugh'  out  loud,  an'  dwoppedthe  little  house,— 
An'  't  busted  like  a  soap-bubble !— An't  skeered 
Me  so,  I— I— I— I,— it  skeered  me  so, 
I— ist  waked  up.— No !     I  ain't  ben  asleep 
An'  dream  it  all,  like^ow  think,— but  it's  shore 
Fer-certain/ac/  an'  cwoss  my  heart  it  is  1 
142 


A  DELICIOUS   INTERRUPTION 

A  LL  were  quite  gracious  in  their  plaudits  of 
Bud's  Fairy;  but  another  stir  above 
That  murmur  was  occasioned  by  a  sweet 
Young  lady-caller,  from  a  neighboring  street, 
Who  rose  reluctantly  to  say  good-night 
To  all  the  pleasant  friends  and  the  delight 
Experienced, — as  she  had  promised  sure 
To  be  back  home  by  nine.     Then  paused,  demure, 
And  wondered  was  it  very  dark. — Oh,  no! — 
She  had  come  by  herself  and  she  could  go 
Without  an  escort.     Ah,  you  sweet  girls  all ! 
What  young  gallant  but  comes  at  such  a  call, 
Your  most  abject  of  slaves !   Why,  there  were  three 
Young  men,  and  several  men  of  family, 
143 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Contesting  for  the  honor— which  at  last 
Was  given  to  Cousin  Rufus ;  and  he  cast 
A  kingly  look  behind  him,  as  the  pair 
Vanished  with  laughter  in  the  darkness  there. 

As  order  was  restored,  with  everything 

Suggestive,  in  its  way,  of  "romancing," 

Some  one  observed  that  now  would  be  the  chance 

For  Noey  to  relate  a  circumstance 

That  he— the  very  specious  rumor  went— 

Had  been  eye-witness  of,  by  accident. 

Noey  turned  pippin-crimson;  then  turned  pale 

As  death ;  then  turned  to  flee,  without  avail.— 

"There!  head  him  off!    Now!  hold  him  in  his  chair !- 

Tell  us  the  Serenade-tale,  now,  Noty.— There!" 


"TT 


NOEY'S  NIGHT-PIECE 

HEY  ain't  much  'tale'  about  it!"  Noey  said.— 


"  K'tawby  grapes  wuz  gittin'  good-n-red 
I  rickollect;  and  Tubb  Kingry  and  me 
'Ud  kindo'  browse  round  town,  daytime,  to  see 
What  neighbers  'peared  to  have  the  most  to  spare 
'At  wuz  git-at-able  and  no  dog  there 
When  we  come  round  to  git  'em,  say  'bout  ten 
O'clock  at  night  when  mostly  old  folks  then 
Wuz  snorin'  at  each  other   like  they  yit 
Helt  some  old  grudge  'at  never  slep'  a  bit. 
Well,  at  the   Pars'nige—et  ye'll  call  to  mind,— 
They's  'bout  the  biggest  grape-arber  you'll  find 
'Most  anywheres.  —  And  mostly  there,  we  knowed 
They  wuz  k'tawbus  thick  as  ever  growed  — 


A   CHILD-WORLD 

And  more'n  they'd  pf serve.— Besides  IVe  heerd 
Ma  say  k'tawby-grape-p'serves  jes  'peared 
A  waste  o'  sugar,  anyhow!— And  so 
My  conscience  stayed  outside  and  lem  me  go 
With  Tubb,  one  night,  the  back-way,  clean  up  through 
That  long  black  arber  to  the  end  next  to 
The  house,  where  the  k'tawbies,  don't  you  know, 
Wuz  thickest.    And  t'uz  lucky  we  went  slowy— 
Per  jest  as  we  wuz  cropin'  tords  the  gray- 
End,  like,  of  the  old  arber— heerd  Tubb  say 
In  a  skeered  whisper,  *  Hold  up !    They's  some  one 
Jes  slippin'  in  here  ! — and  looks  like  a  gun 
He's  carryin'!'    I  golly!  we  both  spread 
Out  flat  aginst  the  ground ! 

"'What's  that?'  Tubb  said.— 

And  jest  then— 'plink!  plunk!  plink!'  we  heerd  something 
Under  the  back-porch-winder.— Then,  i  jing! 


146 


NOET'S  NIGHT-PIECE 

Of  course  we  rickollected  'bout  the  young 

School-mam  'at  wuz  a-boardin'  there,  and  sung, 

And  played  on  the  melodium  in  the  choir. — 

And  she  'uz  'bout  as  purty  to  admire 

As  any  girl  in  town ! — the  fac's  is,  she 

Jest  wu%,  them  times,  to  a  dead  certainty, 

The  belle  o'  this-here  bailywick !— But— Well,— 

I'd  best  git  back  to  what  I'm  tryin'  to  tell:— 

It  wuz  some  feller  come  to  serenade 

Miss  Wetherell :    And  there  he  plunked  and  played 

His  old  guitar,  and  sung,  and  kep'  his  eye 

Set  on  her  winder,  blacker'n  the  sky  !— 

And  black  it  stayed.— But  mayby  she  wuz  'way 

From  home,  er  wore  out— bein'  Saturday! 

"  It  seemed  a  good-'eal  longer,  but  I  know 

He  sung  and  plunked  there  half  a'  hour  er  so 


147 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Afore,  it  'peared  like,  he  could  ever  git 

His  own  free  qualified  consents  to  quit 

And  go  off  'bout  his  business.    When  he  went 

I  bet  you  could  a-bought  him  fer  a  cent! 

"And  now,  behold  ye  all ! — as  Tubb  and  me 
Wuz  'bout  to  raise  up, — right  in  front  we  see 
A  feller  slippin'  out  the  arber,  square 
Smack  under  that-air  little  winder  where 
The  other  feller  had  been  standin'. — And 
The  thing  he  wuz  a-carryin'  in  his  hand 
Wuzn't  no  gun  at  all! — It  wuz  a  flute, — 
And  -whoop-en!  how  it  did  git  up  and  toot 
And  chirp  and  warble,  tel  a  mockin'-bird 
'Ud  dast  to  never  let  hisse'f  be  heerd 
Ferever,  after  sich  miracalous,  high 
Jim-cracks  and  grand  skyrootics  played  there  by 


148 


NOET'S  NIGHT-PIECE 

Yer  Cousin  Ruf us !— Yes-sir ;  it  wuz  him  !— 

And  what's  more, — all  a-suddent  that-air  dim 

Dark  winder  o'  Miss  Wetherell's  wuz  lit 

Up  like  a'  oyshture-sign,  and  under  it 

We  see  him  sort  o'  wet  his  lips  and  smile 

Down  'long  his  row  o'  dancin'  fingers,  while 

He  kindo'  stiffened  up  and  kinked  his  breath 

And  everlastin'ly  jest  blowed  the  peth 

Out  o'  that-air  old  one-keyed  flute  o'  his. 

And,  bless  their  hearts,  that's  all  the  'tale'  they  is!" 

And  even  as  Noey  closed,  all  radiantly 
The  unconscious  hero  of  the  history, 
Returning,  met  a  perfect  driving  storm 
Of  welcome — a  reception  strangely  warm 
And  unaccountable,  to  him,  although 
Most  gratifying,—- and  he  told  them  so. 


149 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

"I  only  urge,"  he  said,  "my  right  to  be 
Enlightened."     And  a  voice  said:     "Certainly:— 
During  your  absence  we  agreed  that  you 
Should  tell  us  all  a  story,  old  or  new, 
Just  in  the  immediate  happy  frame  of  mind 
We  knew  you  would  return  in." 

So,  resigned, 

The  ready  flutist  tossed  his  hat  aside- 
Glanced  at  the  children,  smiled,  and  thus  complied. 


150 


COUSIN  RUFUS'  STORY 

Jl  /I  Y  little  story,  Cousin  Rufus  said, 
Is  not  so  much  a  story  as  a  fact. 
It  is  about  a  certain  willful  boy— 
An  aggrieved,  unappreciated  boy, 
Grown  to  dislike  his  own  home  very  much. 
By  reason  of  his  parents  being  not 
At  all  up  to  his  rigid  standard  and 
Requirements  and  exactions  as  a  son 
And  disciplinarian. 

So,  sullenly 

He  brooded  over  his  disheartening 
Environments  and  limitations,  till, 
At  last,  well  knowing  that  the  outside  world 
Would  yield  him  favors  never  found  at  home, 
151 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

He  rose  determinedly  one  July  dawn — 
Even  before  the  call  for  breakfast— and, 
Climbing  the  alley-fence,  and  bitterly 
Shaking  his  clenched  fist  at  the  woodpile,  he 
Evanished  down  the  turnpike.— Yes :  he  had, 
Once  and  for  all,  put  into  execution 
His  long  low-muttered  threaten! ngs— He  had 
Run  off! — He  had — had  run  away  from  home! 

His  parents,  at  discovery  of  his  flight, 
Bore  up  first-rate— especially  his  Pa,— 
Quite  possibly  recalling  his  own  youth, 
And  therefrom  predicating,  by  high  noon, 
The  absent  one  was  very  probably 
Disporting  his  nude  self  in  the  delights 
Of  the  old  swimmin'-hole,  some  hundred  yards 
Below  the  slaughter-house,  just  east  of  town. 


152 


COUSIN  RUFUS'  STORT 

The  stoic  father,  too,  in  his  surmise 

Was  accurate— For,  lo!  the  boy  was  there! 

And  there,  too,  he  remained  throughout  the  day- 
Save  at  one  starving  interval  in  which 
He  clad  his  sunburnt  shoulders  long  enough 
To  shy  across  a  wheatfield,  shadow-like, 
And  raid  a  neighboring  orchard— bitterly, 
And  with  spasmodic  twitchings  of  the  lip, 
Bethinking  him  how  all  the  other  boys 
Had  homes  to  go  to  at  the  dinner-hour— 
While  he— alas!— he  had  no  home!— At  least 
These  very  words  seemed  rising  mockingly, 
Until  his  every  thought  smacked  raw  and  sour 
And  green  and  bitter  as  the  apples  he 
In  vain  essayed  to  stay  his  hunger  with. 


ill 


A    CHILD-  WORLD 

Nor  did  he  join  the  glad  shouts  when  the  boys 
Returned  rejuvenated  for  the  long 
Wet  revel  of  the  feverish  afternoon.— 
Yet,  bravely,  as  his  comrades  splashed  and  swam 
And  spluttered,  in  their  weltering  merriment, 
He  tried  to  laugh,  too,— but  his  voice  was  hoarse 
And  sounded  to  him  like  some  other  boy's. 
And  then  he  felt  a  sudden,  poking  sort 
Of  sickness  at  the  heart,  as  though  some  cold 
And  scaly  pain  were  blindly  nosing  it 
Down  in  the  dreggy  darkness  of  his  breast 
The  tensioned  pucker  of  his  purple  lips 
Grew  ever  chillier  and  yet  more  tense— 
The  central  hurt  of  it  slow  spreading  till 
It  did  possess  the  little  face  entire. 
And  then  there  grew  to  be  a  knuckled  knot— 
An  aching  kind  of  core  within  his  throat— 
An  ache,  all  dry  and  swallowless,  which  seemed 
154 


C  O  US  IN  R  UFU&  S  TOR  * 

To  ache  on  just  as  bad  when  he'd  pretend 
He  didn't  notice  it  as  when  he  did. 
It  was  a  kind  of  a  conceited  pain— 
An  overbearing,  self-assertive  and 
Barbaric  sort  of  pain  that  clean  outhurt 
A  boy's  capacity  for  suffering— 
So,  many  times,  the  little  martyr  needs 
Must  turn  himself  all  suddenly  and  dive 
From  sight  of  his  hilarious  playmates  and 
Surreptitiously  weep  under  water. 

Thus 

He  wrestled  with  his  awful  agony 
Till  almost  dark ;  and  then,  at  last — then,  with 
The  very  latest  lingering  group  of  his 
Companions,  he  moved  turgidly  toward  home- 
Nay,  rather  oo^ed  that  way,  so  slow  he  went, — 
With  lothful,  hesitating,  loitering, 
Reluctant,  late-election-returns  air, 
155 


A    CHILD-  WORLD 

Heightened  somewhat  by  the  conscience-made  resolve 
Of  chopping  a  double-armful  of  wood 
As  he  went  in  by  rear  way  of  the  kitchen. 
And  this  resolve  he  executed; — yet 
The  hired  girl  made  no  comment  whatsoever, 
But  went  on  washing  up  the  supper-things, 
Crooning  the  unutterably  sad  song,  "  Then  think, 
Oh,  think  how  lonely  this  heart  must  ever  be!'1 
Still,  with  affected  carelessness,  the  boy 
Ranged  through  the  pantry;  but  the  cupboard-door 
Was  locked.    He  sighed  then  like  a  wet  fore-stick 
And  went  out  on  the  porch.— At  least  the  pump, 
He  prophesied,  would  meet  him  kindly  and 
Shake  hands  with  him  and  welcome  his  return ! 
And  long  he  held  the  old  tin  dipper  up— 
And  oh,  how  fresh  and  pure  and  sweet  the  draught! 
Over  the  upturned  brim,  with  grateful  eyes 
He  saw  the  back-yard,  in  the  gathering  night, 
156 


COUSIN  RUFU&  STORT 

Vague,  dim  and  lonesome,  but  it  all  looked  good: 

The  lightning-bugs,  against  the  grape-vines,  blinked 

A  sort  of  sallow  gladness  over  his 

Home-coming,  with  this  softening  of  the  heart. 

He  did  not  leave  the  dipper  carelessly 

In  the  milk-trough.— No :  he  hung  it  back  upon 

Its  old  nail  thoughtfully— even  tenderly. 

All  slowly  then  he  turned  and  sauntered  toward 

The  rain-barrel  at  the  corner  of  the  house, 

And,  pausing,  peered  into  it  at  the  few 

Faint  stars  reflected  there.     Then— moved  by  some 

Strange  impulse  new  to  him— he  washed  his  feet. 

He  then  went  in  the  house— straight  on  into 

The  very  room  where  sat  his  parents  by 

The  evening  lamp.— The  father  all  intent 

Reading  his  paper,  and  the  mother  quite 

As  intent  with  her  sewing.    Neither  looked 


157 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Up  at  his  entrance— even  reproachfully,— 
And  neither  spoke. 

The  wistful  runaway 

Drew  a  long,  quavering  breath,  and  then  sat  down 
Upon  the  extreme  edge  of  a  chair.     And  all 
Was  very  still  there  for  a  long,  long  while. — 
Yet  everything,  someway,  seemed  restful-tike 
And  homey  and  old-fashioned,  good  and  kind, 
And  sort  of  kin  to  him! — Only  too  still! 
If  somebody  would  say  something — just  speak — 
Or  even  rise  up  suddenly  and  come 
And  lift  him  by  the  ear  sheer  off  his  chair — 
Or  box  his  jaws— Lord  bless  'em  !— a^thing  !— 
Was  he  not  there  to  thankfully  accept 
Any  reception  from  parental  source 
Save  this  incomprehensible  voicelessness. 
O  but  the  silence  held  its  very  breath ! 
If  but  the  ticking  clock  would  only  strike 
158 


C  O  US  IN  R  UF  US  STORT 

And  for  an  instant  drown  the  whispering, 
Lisping,  sifting  sound  the  katydids 
Made  outside  in  the  grassy  nowhere. 

Far 

Down  some  back-street  he  heard  the  faint  halloo 
Of  boys  at  their  night-game  of  "  Town-fox," 
But  now  with  no  desire  at  all  to  be 
Participating  in  their  sport.— No;  no;— 
Never  again  in  this  world  would  he  want 
To  join  them  there!— he  only  wanted  just 
To  stay  in  home  of  nights— Always— always— 
Forever  and  a  day! 

He  moved;  and  coughed— 

Coughed  hoarsely,  too,  through  his  rolled  tongue;  and  yet 
No  vaguest  of  parental  notice  or 
Solicitude  in  answer — no  response — 
No  word— no  look.    O  it  was  deathly  still  I— 
So  still  it  was  that  really  he  could  not 
159 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Remember  any  prior  silence  that 

At  all  approached  it  in  profundity 

And  depth  and  density  of  utter  hush. 

He  felt  that  he  himself  must  break  it:    So, 

Summoning  every  subtle  artifice 

Of  seeming  nonchalance  and  native  ease 

And  naturalness  of  utterance  to  his  aid, 

And  gazing  raptly  at  the  house-cat  where 

She  lay  curled  in  her  wonted  corner  of 

The  hearth-rug,  dozing,  he  spoke  airily 

And  said:    "I  see  you've  got  the  same  old  cat! 


160 


T 


BEWILDERING  EMOTIONS 

HE  merriment  that  followed  was  subdued— - 
As  though  the  story-teller's  attitude 
Were  dual,  in  a  sense,  appealing  quite 
As  much  to  sorrow  as  to  mere  delight, 
According,  haply,  to  the  listener's  bent 
Either  of  sad  or  merry  temperament— 
"And  of  your  two  appeals  I  much  prefer 
The  pathos,"  said  "The  Noted  Traveler,"— 
"  For  should  I  live  to  twice  my  present  years, 
I  know  I  could  not  quite  forget  the  tears 
That  child-eyes  bleed,  the  little  palms  nailed  wide, 
And  quivering  soul  and  body  crucified.  .  .  . 
But,  bless  'em!  there  are  no  such  children  here 
To-night,  thank  God !— Come  here  to  me,  my  dear ! " 
He  said  to  little  Alex,  in  a  tone 
So  winning  that  the  sound  of  it  alone 
"  161 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Had  drawn  a  child  more  lothful  to  his  knee:— 
"And,  now-sir,  /'//  agree  if  you'll  agree,— 
You  tell  us  all  a  story,  and  then  / 
Will  tell  one." 

"But  /  carft." 

"  Well,  can't  you  try  ?" 
"  Yes,  Mister :  he  kin  tell  one.    Alex,  tell 
The  one,  you  know,  'at  you  made  up  so  well, 
About  the  Bear.     He  allus  tells  that  one," 
Said  Bud,—"  He  gits  it  mixed  some  'bout  the  gun 
An'  ax  the  Little  Boy  had,  an'  apples,  too."— 
Then  Uncle  Mart  said—"  There,  now !  that'll  do  I— 
Let  Alex  tell  his  story  his  own  way !  " 
And  Alex,  prompted  thus,  without  delay 
Began. 


162 


THE  BEAR-STORY 

THAT  ALEX  "1ST  MAKED  UP  HIS-OWN-SE'F" 
Y,  wunst  they  wuz  a  Little  Boy  went  out 
In  the  woods  to  shoot  a  Bear.     So,  he  went  out 
'Way  in  the  grea'-big  woods— he  did.— An'  lie 
Wuz  goin'  along-an'  goin'  along,  you  know, 
An'  purty  soon  he  heerd  somepin'  go  "Wooh!"— 
1st  thataway~"U/oo-ooh  /  »     An'  he  wuz  sheered, 
He  wuz.     An'  so  he  runned  an'  clumbed  a  tree— 
A  grea'-big  tree,  he  did,— a  sicka-more  tree. 
An'  nen  he  heerd  it  agin :  an5  he  looked  round, 
An'  '/'«{•  a  Bear!— a  gr^-big,  shore-miff  Bear  !— 
No :  't'uz  two  Bears,  it  wuz— two  grea'-big  Bears— 
One  of  'em  wuz-ist  one's  a  grta'-big  Bear.- 
But  they  ist  boff  went  "Wooh!  "-An'  here  they  come 
To  climb  the  tree  an'  git  the  Little  Boy 
An'  eat  him  up! 

163 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

An'  nen  the  Little  Boy 

He  'uz  skeered  worse'n  ever!    An'  here  come 
The  grea'-big  Bear  a-climbin*  th'  tree  to  git 
The  Little  Boy  an'  eat  him  up — Oh,  no  I — 
It  'uzn't  the  Big  Bear  'at  dumb  the  tree- 
It  'uz  the  Little  Bear.    So  here  he  come 
Climbin'  the  tree— an'  climbin'  the  tree!   Nen  when 
He  git  wite  closet  to  the  Little  Boy,  w'y  nen 
The  Little  Boy  he  ist  pulled  up  his  gun 
An'  shot  the  Bear,  he  did,  an'  killed  him  dead ! 
An'  nen  the  Bear  he  failed  clean  on  down  out 
The  tree — away  clean  to  the  ground,  he  did — 
Spling-splung !  he  failed  plum  down,  an'  killed  him,  too  ! 
An'  lit  wite  side  o'  where  the*  Big  Bear's  at. 

An'  nen  the  Big  Bear's  awful  mad,  you  bet! — 
'Cause— 'cause  the  Little  Boy  he  shot  his  gun 
An'  killed  the  Little  Bear.— 'Cause  the  Big  Bear 
164 


THE  BEAR-STORY 

He— he  'uz  the  Little  Bear's  Papa.— An'  so  here 
He  come  to  climb  the  big  old  tree  an'  git 
The  Little  Boy  an*  eat  him  up !    An'  when 
The  Little  Boy  he  saw  the  grea'-big  Bear 
A-comin',  he  'uz  badder  skeered,  he  wuz, 
Than  any  time !    An'  so  he  think  he'll  climb 
Up  higher—  'way  up  higher  in  the  tree 
Than  the  old  Bear  kin  climb,  you  know.— But  he— 
He  can't  climb  higher  'an  old  Bears  kin  climb,— 
'Cause  Bears  kin  climb  up  higher  in  the  trees 
Than  any  little  Boys  in  all  the  Wo-r-r-ld  1 

f**' 

An'  so  here  come  the  grea'-big  Bear,  he^lid,— 
A-dimbin'  up— an'  up  the>ee,  to  git 
The  Little  Boy  an^eat  him  up !    An'  so 
The  Little  Boy  he  clumbed  on  higher,  an'  higher, 
An'  higher  up  the  tree— an'  higher— an'  high 
An'  hightr'n  iss-here  house  is!— An'  here  coma 
165 


,      A    CHILD-WORLD 

Th'  old  Bear— clos'ter  to  him  all  the  time  !— 

An'  nen — first  thing  you  know, — when  th'  old  Big  Bear 

Wuz  wite  clos't  to  him — nen  the  Little  Boy 

1st  jabbed  his  gun  wite  in  the  old  Bear's  mouf 

An'  shot  an'  killed  him  dead !— No ;  I  forgot,— 

He  didn't  shoot  the  grea'-big  Bear  at  all— 

'Cause  they  '#£  no  load  in  the  gun,  you  know— 

'Cause  when  he  shot  the  Little  Bear,  w'y,  nen/" 

No  load  'uz  anymore  nen  in  the  gun ! 

But  th'  Little  Boy  clumbed  higher  up,  he  did— 
He  clumbed  lots  higher — an'  on  up  higher— an?  higher 
An'  higher— tel  he  ist  can't  climb  no  higher, 
'Cause  nen  the  limbs  'uz  all  so  little,  Vay 
Up  in  the  teeny-weeny  tip-top  of 
The  tree,  they'd  break  down  wiv  him  ef  he  don't 
Be  keerful!    So  he  stop  an'  think:    An'  nen 
He  look  around — An*  here  come  th'  old  Bear! 
1 66 


THE  BEAR-STORY 

An'  so  the  Little  Boy  make  up  his  mind 
He's  got  to  ist  git  out  o'  there  some  way!— 
('Cause  here  come  the  old  Bear!— so  clos't,  his  bref  s 
Purt  'nigh  so's  he  kin  feel  how  hot  it  is 
Aginst  his  bare  feet— ist  like  old  "  Ring's  "  bref 
When  he's  ben  out  a-huntin'  an's  all^tired. 
So  when  th'  old  Bear's  so  clos't— the  Little  Boy 

Ist  gives  a  grea'-big  jump  fer  Another  tree— 
t  ***** 

^o!— no  he  don't  do  thatjf-I  tell  you  what 

The  Little  Boy  does:— W'y,  nen— w'y,  he— Oh,^s 
The  Little  Boy  he  finds  a  hole  up  there 
*A?s  in  the  tree — an*  climbs  in  there  an'  hides — 
An'  nen  the  old  Bear  can't  find  the  Little  Boy 
Ut-tall!— But,  purty  soon  th'  old  Bear  finds 
The  Little  Boy's  gun  'at's  up  there— 'cause  the  gun 
It's  too  tall  to  tooked  wiv  him  in  the  hole. 
So,  when  the  old  Bear  find'  the  gun,  he  knows 
The  Little  Boy  ist  hid  'round  somers  there,— 
167 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

An'  th'  old  Bear  'gins  to  snuff  an*  sniff  around, 

An'  sniff  an*  snuff  around— so's  he  kin  find 

Out  where  the  Little  Boy's  hid  at— An'  nen— nen— 

Oh,  yes! — W'y,  purty  soon  the  old  Bear  climbs 

'Way  out  on  a  big  limb — a  greaMong  limb, — 

An'  nen  the  Little  Boy  climbs  out  the  hole 

An'  takes  his  ax  an*  chops  the  limb  off!  ...  Nen 

The  old  Bear  falls  k-splunge!  clean  to  the  ground 

An'  bust  an'  kill  hisse'f  plum  dead,  he  didl 

An'  nen  the  Little  Boy  he  git  his  gun 
An'  'menced  a-climbin'  down  the  tree  agin— 
No !— no,  he  didn't  git  his  gun— -'cause  when 
The  Bear  failed,  nen  the  gun  failed,  too— An'  broked 
It  all  to  pieces,  too !— An'  nicest  gun  !— 
His  Pa  ist  buyed  it!— An'  the  Little  Boy 
1st  cried,  he  did;  an*  went  on  climbin*  down 
The  tree — an'  climbin'  down — an'  climbin*  down-!— • 
168 


7 HE  BEAR-STORY 

An'-sir!  when  he  'uz  purt'-nlgh  down,— w'y,  nen 
'The  old  Bear  he  jumped  up  agin! — an  he 
Ain't  dead  ut-tall— ist  'tendin'  thataway, 
So  he  kin  git  the  Little  Boy  an'  eat 
Him  up  !    But  the  Little  Boy  he  'uz  too  smart 
To  climb  clean  down  the  tree.  —An'  the  old  Bear 
He  can't  climb  up  the  tree  no  more— 'cause  when 
He  fell,  he  broke  one  of  his— He  broke  all 
His  legs!— an'  nen  he  couldn't  climb !     But  he 
Ist  won't  go  'way^an'  let  the  Little  Boy 
Come  down  out  of  the  tree.     An'  the  old  Bear 
1st  growls  'round  there,  he  does— ist  growls  an'  goes 
"Wooh!  woo-ooh!"  all  the  time!     An'  Little  Boy 
He  haf  to  stay  up  in  the  tree— all  night— 
An'  'thout  no  supper  neever !— Only  they 
Wuz  apples  on  the  tree !— An'  Little  Boy 
Et  apples— ist  all  night— an'  cried— an'  cried ! 


169 


A  CHILD-WORLD 

when  'tuz  morning  th'  old  Bear  went  "Wooh!" 
Agin,  an'  try  to  climb  up  in  the  tree 
An'  git  the  Little  Boy.— But  he  can't 
Climb  t'save  his  so«7,  he  can't!— An'  oh!  he's  mad!— 
V  He  ist  tear  up  the  ground !  an'  go  "Woo-ooh!" 
An' — Oh, yes! — purty  soon,  when  morning's  come 
All  light — so's  you  kin  see,  you  know, — w'y,  nen 
The  old  Bear  finds  the  Little  Boy's  gun,  you  know, 
'At's  on  the  ground.— (An'  it  ain't  broke  ut-tall— 
I  ist  said  that!)    An'  so  the  old  Bear  think 
He'll  take  the  gun  an'  shoot  the  Little  Boy :— 
But  Bears  they  don't  know  much  'bout  shootin'  guns: 
So  when  he  go  to  shoot  the  Little  Boy, 
The  old  Bear  got  the  other  end  the  gun 
Agin  his  shoulder,  'stid  o'  Mother  end- 
So  when  he  try  to  shoot  the  Little  Boy, 
It  shot  the  Bear,  it  did—an'  killed  him  dead! 
An'  nen  the  Little  Boy  dumb  down  the  tree 
170 


THE  BEAR-STORY 

An'  chopped  his  old  wooly  head  off :— Yes,  an'  killed 

The  other  Bear  agin,  he  did— an'  killed 

All  fo/the  bears,  he  did— an'  tuk  'em  home 

An'  cooked  'em,  too,  an'  tt  'em ! 

—An' that's 


171 


THE  PATHOS  OF  APPLAUSE 

T^HE  greeting  of  the  company  throughout 
Was  like  a  jubilee,— the  children's  shout 
And  fusillading  hand-claps,  with  great  guns 
And  detonations  of  the  older  ones, 
Raged  to  such  tumult  of  tempestuous  joy, 
It  even  more  alarmed  than  pleased  the  boy; 
Till,  with  a  sudden  twitching  lip,  he  slid 
Down  to  the  floor  and  dodged  across  and  hid 
His  face  against  his  mother  as  she  raised 
Him  to  the  shelter  of  her  heart,  and  praised 
His  story  in  low  whisperings,  and  smoothed 
The  "amber-colored  hair,"  and  kissed,  and  soothed 
And  lulled  him  back  to  sweet  tranquillity— 
"And  'ats  a  sign  'at  you're  the  Ma  fer  me ! " 
172 


THE  PA  THOS  OF  APPLA  USB 

He  lisped,  with  gurgling  ecstasy,  and  drew 
Her  closer,  with  shut  eyes ;  and  feeling,  too, 
If  he  could  only  purr  now  like  a  cat, 
He  would  undoubtedly  be  doing  that! 

"And  now "— the  serious  host  said,  lifting  there 
A  hand  entreating  silence;— "  now,  aware 
Of  the  good  promise  of  our  Traveler  guest 
To  add  some  story  with  and  for  the  rest, 
I  think  I  favor  you,  and  him  as  well, 
Asking  a  story  I  have  heard  him  tell, 
And  know  its  truth, in  each  minute  detail:" 
Then  leaning  on  his  guest's  chair,  with  a  hale 
Hand-pat  by  way  of  full  indorsement,  he 
Said,  "  Yes— the  Free-Slave  story-certainly." 

The  old  man,  with  his  waddy  notebook  out, 
And  glittering  spectacles,  glanced  round  about 
173 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

The  expectant  circle,  and  still  firmer  drew 
His  hat  on,  with  a  nervous  cough  or  two: 
And,  save  at  times  the  big  hard  words,  and  tone 
Of  gathering  passion— all  the  speaker's  own,— 
The  tale  that  set  each  childish  heart  astir 
Was  thus  told  by  "The  Noted  Traveler." 


174 


TOLD  BY  "THE  NOTED  TRAVELER" 

OMING,  clean  from  the  Maryland-end 
Of  this  great  National  Road  of  ours, 
Through  your  vast  West;  with  the  time  to  spend, 
Stopping  for  days  in  the  main  towns,  where 
Every  citizen  seemed  a  friend, 
And  friends  grew  thick  as  the  wayside  flowers, — 
I  found  no  thing  that  I  might  narrate 
More  singularly  strange  or  queer 
Than  a  thing  I  found  in  your  sister-state 
Ohio, — at  a  river-town — down  here 
In  my  notebook:  Zanesville — situate 
On  the  stream  Muskingum — broad  and  clear  > 
And  navigable,  through  half  the  year. 
North,  to  Coshocton;  south,  as  far 
As  Marietta.— But  these  tacts  are 
175 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Not  of  the  story ,  but  the  scene 

Of  the  simple  little  tale  I  mean 

To  tell  directly — from  this,  straight  through 

To  the  end  that  is  best  worth  listening  to : 

Eastward  of  Zanesville,  two  or  three 
Miles  from  the  town,  as  our  stage  drove  in, 
I  on  the  driver's  seat,  and  he 
Pointing  out  this  and  that  to  me,— 
On  beyond  us— among  the  rest— 
A  grovey  slope,  and  a  fluttering  throng 
Of  little  children,  which  he  "guessed" 
Was  a  picnic,  as  we  caught  their  thin 
High  laughter,  as  we  drove  along, 
Clearer  and  clearer.    Then  suddenly 
He  turned  and  asked,  with  a  curious  grin, 
What  were  my  views  on  Slavery?    "Why*" 
I  asked,  In  return,  with  a  wary  eye. 
176 


TOLD  BT  "THE  NOTED  TRA  VELER" 

"Because,"  he  answered,  pointing  his  whip 
At  a  little,  whitewashed  house  and  shed 
On  the  edge  of  the  road  by  the  grove  ahead,— 
" Because  there  are  two  slaves  there"  he  said — 
"Two  Black  slaves  that  I've  passed  each  trip 
For  eighteen  years.— Though  they've  been  set  free; 
They  have  been  slaves  ever  since ! "  said  he. 
And,  as  our  horses  slowly  drew 
Nearer  the  little  house  in  view, 
All  briefly  I  heard  the  history 
Of  this  little  old  Negro  woman  and 
Her  husband,  house  and  scrap  of  land; 
How  they  were  slaves  and  had  been  made  free 
By  their  dying  master,  years  ago 
In  old  Virginia;  and  then  had  come 
North  here  into  a  free  state — so, 
Safe  forever,  to  found  a  home — 
For  themselves  alone?— for  they  left  South  there 
177 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Five  strong  sons,  who  had,  alas! 

All  been  sold  ere  it  came  to  pass 

This  first  old  master  with  his  last  breath 

Had  freed  the  parents.— (He  went  to  death 

Agonized  and  in  dire  despair 

That  the  poor  slave  children  might  not  share 

Their  parents'  freedom.    And  wildly  then 

He  moaned  for  pardon  and  died.    Amen  I) 

Thus,  with  their  freedom,  and  little  sum 
Of  money  left  them,  these  two  had  come 
North,  full  twenty  long  years  ago; 
And,  settling  there,  they  had  hopefully 
Gone  to  work,  in  their  simple  way, 
Hauling — gardening — raising  sweet 
Corn,  and  popcorn. — Bird  and  bee 
In  the  garden-blooms  and  the  apple-tree 
Singing  with  them  throughout  the  slow 
178 


TOLD  BT  "THE  NOTED   TRAVELER 

Summer's  day,  with  its  dust  and  heat— 
The  crops  that  thirst  and  the  rains  that  fail ; 
Or  in  Autumn  chill,  when  the  clouds  hung  low, 
And  hand-made  hominy  might  find  sale 
In  the  near  town-market;  or  baking  pies 
And  cakes,  to  range  in  alluring  show 
At  the  little  window,  where  the  eyes 
Of  the  Movers'  children,  driving  past, 
Grew  fixed,  till  the  big  white  wagons  drew 
Into  a  halt  that  would  sometimes  last 
Even  the  space  of  an  hour  or  two — 
As  the  dusty,  thirsty  travelers  made 
Their  noonings  there  in  the  beeches'  shade 
By  the  old  black  Aunty's  spring-house,  where, 
Along  with  its  cooling  draughts,  were  found 
Jugs  of  her  famous  sweet  spruce-beer, 
Served  with  her  gingerbread-horses  there, 


179 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

While  Aunty's  snow-white  cap  bobbed 'round 
Till  the  children's  rapture  knew  no  bound, 
As  she  sang  and  danced  for  them,  quavering  clear 
And  high  the  chant  of  her  old  slave-days — 

"  Oh,  Lo'd,  Jinny  I  my  toes  is  so', 
Dancin*  on  yo'  sandy  flo'l" 

Even  so  had  they  wrought  all  ways 

To  earn  the  pennies,  and  hoard  them,  too, — 

And  with  what  ultimate  end  in  view?— 

They  were  saving  up  money  enough  to  be 

Able,  in  time,  to  buy  their  own 

Five  children  back. 

Ah !  the  toil  gone  through ! 
And  the  long  delays  and  the  heartaches,  too, 
And  self-denials  that  they  had  known ! 
But  the  pride  and  glory  that  was  theirs 
When  they  first  hitched  up  their  shackly  cart 
180 


TOLD  BT  "THE  NOTED   TRAVELER" 

For  the  long,  long  journey  South. — The  start 
In  the  first  drear  light  of  the  chilly  dawn, 
With  no  friends  gathered  in  grieving  throng, — 
With  no  farewells  and  favoring  prayers ; 
But,  as  they  creaked  and  jolted  on, 
Their  chiming  voices  broke  in  song — 

"'Hail,  all  hail!  don't  you  see  the  stars  a-fa!Hn'? 
Hail,  all  hail !   I'm  on  my  way. 
Gideon*  am 
A  healin'  ba'm — 

I  belong  to  the  blood-washed  army. 
Gideon  am 
A  healin'  ba'm-— 

On  my  way ! '  " 

And  their  return! — with  their  oldest  boy 

Along  with  them !    Why,  their  happiness 

Spread  abroad  till  it  grew  a  joy 

Universal — It  even  reached 

And  thrilled  the  town  till  the  Church  was  stirred 

•Gile«d— evidently.— [Editor. 

181 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

Into  suspecting  that  wrong  was  wrong  I— 
And  it  stayed  awake  as  the  preacher  preached 
A  Real  "  Love  "-text  that  he  had  not  long 
To  ransack  for  in  the  Holy  Word. 

And  the  son,  restored,  and  welcomed  so, 
Found  service  readily  in  the  town ; 
And,  with  the  parents,  sure  and  slow, 
He  went  "  saltin'  de  cole  cash  down." 

So  with  the  next  boy — and  each  one 
In  turn,  till  four  of  the  five  at  last 
Had  been  bought  back ;  and,  in  each  case, 
With  steady  work  and  good  homes  not 
Far  from  the  parents,  they  chipped  in 
To  the  family  fund,  with  an  equal  grace. 
Thus  they  managed  and  planned  and  wrought, 
And  the  old  folks  throve— Till  the  night  before 
182 


TOLD  BT  "THE  NOTED  TRA  VELER" 

They  were  to  start  for  the  lone  last  son 

In  the  rainy  dawn—their  money  fast 

Hid  away  in  the  house,— two  mean, 

Murderous  robbers  burst  the  door. 

.  .  .  Then,  in  the  dark,  was  a  scuffle— a  fall— 

An  old  man's  gasping  cry — and  then 

A  woman's  fife-like  shriek. 

.  .  .  Three  men 

Splashing  by  on  horseback  heard 
The  summons:    And  in  an  instant  all 
Sprung  to  their  duty,  with  scarce  a  word. 
And  they  were  in  time— not  only  to  save 
The  lives  of  the  old  folks,  but  to  bag 
Both  the  robbers,  and  buck-and-gag 
And  land  them  safe  in  the  county-jail— 
Or,  as  Aunty  said,  with  a  blended  awe 
And  subtlety, — "Safe  in  de  calaboose  whah 
De  dawgs  caint  bite  'em ! " 
183 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

—So  prevail 

The  faithful !— So  had  the  Lord  upheld 
His  servants  of  both  deed  and  prayer,— 
HIS  the  glory  unparalleled — 
Theirs  the  reward, — their  every  son 
Free,  at  last,  as  the  parents  were! 
And,  as  the  driver  ended  there 
In  front  of  the  little  house,  I  said, 
All  fervently,  "Well  done!  well  done!" 
At  which  he  smiled,  and  turned  his  head 
And  pulled  on  the  leaders'  lines  and — "See!1* 
He  said, — "'you  can  read  old  Aunty's  sign?" 
And,  peering  down  through  these  specs  of  mine 
On  a  little,  square  board-sign,  I  read : 

"  Stop,  traveler,  if  you  think  it  fit, 
And  quench  your  thirst  for  a-fip-and-a-bit-~ 
The  rocky  spring  is  very  clear, 
And  soon  converted  into  beer." 

I84 


TOLD  BT  "THE  NOTED  TRAVELER" 

And,  though  I  read  aloud,  I  could 
Scarce  hear  myself  for  laugh  and  shout 
Of  children— a  glad  multitude 
Of  little  people,  swarming  out 
Of  the  picnic-grounds  I  spoke  about. — 
And  in  their  rapturous  midst,  I  see 
Again— through  mists  of  memory— 
A  black  old  Negress  laughing  up 
At  the  driver,  with  her  broad  lips  rolled 
Back  from  her  teeth,  chalk-white,  and  gums 
Redder  than  reddest  red-ripe  plums. 
He  took  from  her  hand  the  lifted  cup 
Of  clear  spring-water,  pure  and  cold, 
And  passed  it  to  me:  And  I  raised  my  hat 
And  drank  to  her  with  a  reverence  that 
My  conscience  knew  was  justly  due 
The  old  black  face,  and  the  old  eyes,  too— 
The  old  black  head,  with  its  mossy  mat 
185 


A   CHILD-WORLD 

Of  hair,  set  under  its  cap  and  frills 
White  as  the  snows  on  Alpine  hills; 
Drank  to  the  old  black  smile,  but  yet 
Bright  as  the  sun  on  the  violet,— 
Drank  to  the  gnarled  and  knuckled  old 
Black  hands  whose  palms  had  ached  and  bled 
And  pitilessly  been  worn  pale 
And  white  almost  as  the  palms  that  hold 
Slavery's  lash  while  tne  victim's  wail 
Fails  as  a  crippled  prayer  might  fail.— 
Aye,  with  a  reverence  infinite, 
I  drank  to  the  old  black  face  and  head— 
The  old  black  breast  with  its  life  of  light— 
The  old  black  hide  with  its  heart  of  gold. 


186 


HEAT-LIGHTNING 

T^HERE  was  a  curious  quiet  for  a  space 
Directly  following:  and  in  the  face 
Of  one  rapt  listener  pulsed  the  flush  and  glow 
Of  the  heat-lightning  that  pent  passions  throw 
Long  ere  the  crash  of  speech.— He  broke  the  spell— 
The  host:— The  Traveler's  story,  told  so  well, 
He  said,  had  wakened  there  within  his  breast 
A  yearning,  as  it  were,  to  know  the  rest— 
That  all  unwritten  sequence  that  the  Lord 
Of  Righteousness  must  write  with  flame  and  sword, 
Some  awful  session  of  His  patient  thought- 
Just  then  it  was,  his  good  old  mother  caught 
His  blazing  eye — so  that  its  fire  became 
But  as  an  ember— though  it  burned  the  same. 
187 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

It  seemed  to  her,  she  said,  that  she  had  heard 
It  was  the  Heavenly  Parent  never  erred, 
And  not  the  earthly  one  that  had  such  grace: 
"  Therefore,  my  son,"  she  said,  with  lifted  face 
And  eyes,  "  let  no  one  dare  anticipate 
The  Lord's  intent.    While  He  waits,  we  will  wait." 
And  with  a  gust  of  reverence  genuine 
Then  Uncle  Mart  was  aptly  ringing  in — 
"  'If  the  darkened  heavens  lower. 

Wrap  thy  cloak  around  thy  form ; 
Though  the  tempest  rise  in  power, 

God  is  mightier  than  the  storm ! '  ' 
Which  utterance  reached  the  restive  children  all 
As  something  humorous.    And  then  a  call 
For  him  to  tell  a  story,  or  to  "  say 
A  funny  piece."    His  face  fell  right  away: 
He  knew  no  story  worthy.    Then  he  must 
Declaim  for  them :    In  that,  he  could  not  trust 
1 88 


His  memory.    And  then  a  happy  thought 

Struck  some  one,  who  reached  in  his  vest  and  brought 

Some  scrappy  clippings  into  light  and  said 

There  was  a  poem  of  Uncle  Mart's  he  read 

Last  April  in  "The  Sentinel."    He  had 

It  there  in  print,  and  knew  all  would  be  glad 

To  hear  it  rendered  by  the  author. 

And, 

All  reasons  for  declining  at  command 
Exhausted,  the  now  helpless  poet  rose 
And  said:    "  I  am  discovered,  I  suppose. 
Though  I  have  taken  all  precautions  not 
To  sign  my  name  to  any  verses  wrought 
By  my  transcendent  genius,  yet,  you  see, 
Fame  wrests  my  secret  from  me  bodily; 
So  I  must  needs  confess  I  did  this  deed 
Of  poetry  red-handed,  nor  can  plead 


189 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

One  whit  of  unintention  in  my  crime— 

My  guilt  of  rhythm  and  my  glut  of  rhyme. — 

" '  Maeonides  rehearsed  a  tale  of  arms. 

And  Naso  told  of  curious  metamurphoses ; 
Unnumbered  pens  have  pictured  woman's  charms. 
While  crazy  I've  made  poetry  on  purposes!' 

In  other  words,  I  stand  convicted— need 
I  say— by  my  own  doing,  as  I  read. 


190 


H 


UNCLE  MART'S  POEM 

THE  OLD  SNOW-MAN 

O !  the  old  Snow-Man 

That  Noey  Bixler  made! 
He  looked  as  fierce  and  sassy 

As  a  soldier  on  parade! — 
'Cause  Noey,  when  he  made  him, 

While  we  all  wuz  gone,  you  see, 
He  made  him,  jist  a-purpose, 
Jist  as  fierce  as  he  could  be!— 

But  when  we  all  got  ust  to  him, 

Nobody  wuz  afraid 
Of  the  old  Snow-Man 
That  Noey  Bixler  made! 

'Cause  Noey  told  us  'bout  him 
And  what  he  made  him  fer:~ 
191 


A    CHILD-  WORLD 

He'd  come  to  feed,  that  morning 

He  found  we  wuzn't  here; 
And  so  the  notion  struck  him, 

When  we  all  come  taggin'  home 
Tud  s'prise  us  ef  a'  old  Snow-Man 

'Ud  meet  us  when  we  come! 
So,  when  he'd  fed  the  stock,  and  milked, 

And  ben  back  home,  and  chopped 
His  wood,  and  et  his  breakfast,  he 
Jist  grabbed  his  mitts  and  hopped 
Right  in  on  that-air  old  Snow-Man 

That  he  laid  out  he'd  make 
Er  bust  a  trace  a-tryin' — jist 
Per  old-acquaintance  sake! — 

But  work  like  that  wuz  lots  more  fun. 

He  said,  than  when  he  played! 
Ho!  the  old  Snow-Man 
That  Noey  Bixler  made! 
192 


UNCLE  MARTS  POEM 

He  started  with  a  big  snow-ball, 

And  rolled  it  all  around ; 
And  as  he  rolled,  more  snow  *ud  stick 

And  pull  up  off  the  ground.— 
He  rolled  and  rolled  all  round  the  yard— 

'Cause  we  could  see  the  track, 
All  wher'  the  snow  come  off,  you  know, 

And  left  it  wet  and  black. 
He  got  the  Snow-Man's  legs-part  rolled — 

In  front  the  kitchen-door,— 
And  then  he  hat  to  turn  in  then 

And  roll  and  roll  some  more  I— 
He  rolled  the  yard  all  round  agin, 

And  round  the  house,  at  that- 
Clean  round  the  house  and  back  to  wher* 

The  blame  legs-half  wuz  at ! 

He  said  he  missed  his  dinner,  too— 

Jist  clean  fergot  and  stayed 
•i  193 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

There  workin'.    Ho!  the  old  Snow-Man 
That  Noey  Bixler  made! 

And  Noey  said  he  hat  to  hump 

To  git  the  top-half  on 
The  legs-half!— When  he  did,  he  said, 

His  wind  wuz  purf-nigh  gone.— 
He  said,  I  jucks !  he  jist  drapped  down 

There  on  the  old  porch-floor 
And  panted  like  a  dog !— And  then 

He  up!  and  rolled  some  more!— 
The  last  batch— that  wuz  fer  his  head,- 

And— time  he'd  got  it  right 
And  dumb  and  fixed  it  on,  he  said — 

He  hat  to  quit  fer  night! — 
And  then,  he  said,  he'd  kep'  right  on 

Ef  they'd  ben  any  moon 


UNCLE  MARTS  POEM 

To  work  by!    So  he  crawled  in  bed— 
And  could  a-slep'  tel  noon, 

He  wuz  so  plum  wore  out!  he  said,- 

But  it  wuz  washin'-day, 
And  hat  to  cut  a  cord  o'  wood 
Tore  he  could  git  away! 

But,  last,  he  got  to  work  agin,— 

With  spade,  and  gouge,  and  hoe, 
And  trowel,  too— (All  tools  'ud  do 

What  Noey  said,  you  know!) 
He  cut  his  eyebrows  out  like  cliffs — 

And  his  cheekbones  and  chin 
Stuck  furder  out — and  his  old  nose 

Stuck  out  as  fur-aginl 
He  made  his  eyes  o'  walnuts, 

And  his  whiskers  out  o'  this 
Here  buggy-cushion  sturfm' — moss, 

The  teacher  says  it  is. 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

And  then  he  made  a*  old  wood'-gun, 

Set  keerless-like,  you  know, 
Acrost  one  shoulder— kindo'  like 
Big  Foot,  er  Adam  Poe— 
Er,  mayby,  Simon  Girty, 

The  dinged  old  Renegade! 
Wooh  I  the  old  Snow-Man 
That  Noey  Bixler  made! 

And  there  he  stood,  all  fierce  and  grim, 

A  stern,  heroic  form  : 
What  was  the  winter  blast  to  him, 

And  what  the  driving  storm  ?— 
What  wonder  that  the  children  pressed 

Their  faces  at  the  pane 
And  scratched  away  the  frost,  in  pride 

To  look  on  him  again?— 

196 


UNCLE  MARTS  POEM 

What  wonder  that,  with  yearning  bold, 

Their  all  of  love  and  care 
Went  warmest  through  the  keenest  cold 

To  that  Snow-Man  out  there! 

But  the  old  Snow-Man — 

What  a  dubious  delight 
He  grew  at  last  when  Spring  came  on 

And  days  waxed  warm  and  bright. — 
Alone  he  stood — all  kith  and  kin 

Of  snow  and  ice  were  gone ; — 
Alone,  with  constant  teardrops  in 

His  eyes  and  glittering  on 
His  thin,  pathetic  beard  of  black— 

Grief  in  a  hopeless  cause  I— 
Hope— hope  is  for  the  man  that  dies— 

What  for  the  man  that  thaws! 


A   CHILD-WORLD 

O  Hero  of  a  hero's  make!— 
Let  marble  melt  and  fade, 

But  never  you— you  old  Snow-Man 
That  Noey  Bixler  madel 


"  LITTLE  JACK  JANITOR  " 

A  ND  there,  in  that  ripe  Summer-night,  once  more 
A  wintry  coolness  through  the  open  door 
And  window  seemed  to  touch  each  glowing  face 
Refreshingly ;  and,  for  a  fleeting  space, 
The  quickened  fancy,  through  the  fragrant  air, 
Saw  snowflakes  whirling  where  the  roseleaves  were8 
And  sounds  of  veriest  jingling  bells  again 
Were  heard  in  tinkling  spoons  and  glasses  then, 

Thus  Uncle  Mart's  old  poem  sounded  young 
And  crisp  and  fresh  and  clear  as  when  first  sung, 
Away  back  in  the  wakening  of  Spring 
When  his  rhyme  and  the  robin,  chorusing, 
Rumored,  in  duo-fanfare,  of  the  soon 
Invading  johnny-jump-ups,  with  platoon 
190 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

On  platoon  of  sweet-williams,  marshaled  fine 
To  bloomed  blarings  of  the  trumpet-vine. 

The  poet  turned  to  whisperingly  confer 

A  moment  with  "  The  Noted  Traveler/' 

Then  left  the  room,  tripped  up  the  stairs,  and  then 

An  instant  later  reappeared  again, 

Bearing  a  little,  lacquered  box,  or  chest, 

Which,  as  all  marked  with  curious  interest, 

He  gave  to  the  old  Traveler,  who  in 

One  hand  upheld  it,  pulling  back  his  thin 

Black  lustre  coat-sleeves,  saying  he  had  sent 

Up  for  his  "  Magic  Box,"  and  that  he  meant 

To  test  it  there— especially  to  show 

Tht  Children.     "  It  is  empty  now,  you  know." — 

He  ^humped  it  with  his  knuckles,  so  they  heard 

Th*  hollow  sound— "But  lest  it  be  inferred 


"LITTLE  JACK  JANITOR" 

It  is  not  really  empty,  I  will  ask 
Little  Jack  Janitor,  whose  pleasant  task 
It  is  to  keep  it  ship-shape.'* 

Then  he  tried 

And  rapped  the  little  drawer  in  the  side, 
And  called  out  sharply  "Are  you  in  there,  Jack?*' 
And  then  a  little,  squeaky  voice  came  back, — 
"Of  course  I'm  in  here — ain't  you  got  the  key 
Turned  -on  me!" 

Then  the  Traveler  leisurely 
Felt  through  his  pockets,  and  at  last  took  out 
The  smallest  key  they  ever  heard  about  I— 
It  wasn't  any  longer  than  a  pin : 
And  this  at  last  he  managed  to  fit  in 
The  little  keyhole,  turned  it,  and  then  cried, 
"  Is  everything  swept  out  clean  there  inside  ? " 


201 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

"Open  the  drawer  and  see!— Don* t  talk  so  much; 

Or  else,"  the  little  voice  squeaked,  "  talk  in  Dutch— 

You  age  me,  asking  questions!" 

Then  the  man 

Looked  hurt,  so  that  the  little  folks  began 
To  feel  so  sorry  for  him,  he  put  down 
His  face  against  the  box  and  had  to  frown. — 
"Come,  sir!"  he  called,— "no  impudence  to  me!  — 
You've  swept  out  clean?" 

"Open  the  drawer  and  see!" 
And  so  he  drew  the  drawer  out:    Nothing  there, 
But  just  the  empty  drawer,  stark  and  bare. 
He  shoved  it  back  again,  with  a  shark  click.— 

"Ouch!"  yelled  the  little  voice— " un-snap  it— quick  J— 
You've  got  my  nose  pinched  in  the  crack ! " 

And  then 

The  frightened  man  drew  out  the  drawer  again, 
202 


"LITTLE  JACK  JANITOR" 

The  little  voice  exclaiming,  "Jeemi-nee!— 

Say  what  you  want,  but  please  don't  murder  me!" 

"  Well,  then,"  the  man  said,  as  he  closed  the  drawer 
With  care,  "  I  want  some  cotton-batting  for 
My  supper!    Have  you  got  it?" 

And  inside, 

All  muffled  like,  the  little  voice  replied, 
"Open  the  drawer  and  see  !" 

And,  sure  enough, 

He  drew  it  out,  filled  with  the  cotton  stuff. 
He  then  asked  for  a  candle  to  be  brought 
And  held  for  him. :  and  tuft  by  tuft  -he  caught 
And  lit  the  cotton,  and,  while  blazing,  took 
It  in  his  mouth  and  ate  it,  with  a  look 
Of  purest  satisfaction. 

"  Now,"  said  he, 

"I've  eaten  the  drawer  empty,  let  me  see 
203 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

What  this  is  in  my  mouth : "    And  with  both  hands 

He  began  drawing  from  his  lips  long  strands 

Of  narrow  silken  ribbons,  every  hue 

And  tint;— and  crisp  they  were  and  bright  and  new 

As  if  just  purchased  at  some  Fancy-Store. 

"And  now,  Bub,  bring  your  cap,"  he  said,  "before 

Something  might  happen!"    And  he  stuffed  the  cap 

Full  of  the  ribbons.    "  There,  my  little  chap, 

Hold  tight  to  them,"  he  said,  "and  take  them  to 

The  ladies  there,  for  they  know  what  to  do 

With  all  such  rainbow  finery ! " 

He  smiled 

Half  sadly,  as  it  seemed,  to  see  the  child 

Open  his  cap  first  to  his  mother.  .  .  .  .  There 

Was  not  a  ribbon  in  it  anywhere! 

"Jack Janitor!"  the  man  said  sternly  through 

The  Magic  Box— "Jack  Janitor,  did  you 

Conceal  those  ribbons  anywhere?" 
204 


"LITTLE  JACK  JANITOR" 

"Well,  yes," 

The  little  voice  piped—"  but  you'd  never  guess 
The  place  1  hid  'em  if  you'd  guess  a  year!" 


"Well,  won't  you  te 

"Not  until  you  clear 

Your  mean  old  conscience"  said  the  voice,  "and  make 
Me  first  do  something  for  the  Children's  sake" 

"Well,  then,  fill  up  the  drawer,"  the  Traveler  said, 
"  With  whitest  white  on  earth  and  reddest  red  !— 
Your  terms  accepted—  Are  you  satisfied?" 

"Open  the  drawer  and  see!"  the  voice  replied. 

"Why,  bless  my  soul!"—  the  man  said,  as  he  drew 
The  contents  of  the  drawer  into  view— 


205 


A    CHILD-WORLD 

"It's  level-full  of  candy!— Pass  it  'round— 
Jack  Janitor  shan't  steal  that,  I'll  be  bound !  "— 
He  raised  and  crunched  a  stick  of  it  and  smacked 
His  lips.— "Yes,  that  is  candy,  for  a  fact!— 
And  it's  all  yours!" 

And  how  the  children  there 
Lit  into  it !— O  never  anywhere 
Was  such  a  feast  of  sweetness ! 

"And  now,  then," 

The  man  said,  as  the  empty  drawer  again 
Slid  to  its  place,  he  bending  over  it,— 
"Now,  then,  Jack  Janitor,  before  we  quit 
Our  entertainment  for  the  evening,  tell 
Us  where  you  hid  the  ribbons— can't  you?" 


The  squeaky  little  voice  drawled  sleepily— 
11  Under  your  old  hat,  maybe.— Look  and  set!" 

206 


"LITTLE  JACK  JANITOR" 

All  carefully  the  man  took  off  his  hat : 

But  there  was  not  a  ribbon  under  that— 

He  shook  his  heavy  hair,  and  all  in  vain 

The  old  white  hat— then  put  it  on  again : 

"  Now,  tell  me,  honest,  Jack,  where  did  you  hide 

The  ribbons?" 

"Under your  hat"  the  voice  replied. 
"Mind I  I  said  'under'  and  not  'in'  it.— Won't 
You  ever  take  the  hint  on  earth  J— or  don't 
You  want  to  show  folks  where  the  ribbons  at  ?-— 
Law  !  but  I'm  sleepy  !— Under— unner  your  hat  I " 

Again  the  old  man  carefully  took  off 
The  empty  hat,  with  an  embarrassed  cough, 
Saying,  all  gravely  to  the  children  :    "  You 
Must  promise  not  to  laugh— you'll  all  want  to — 
When  you  see  where  Jack  Janitor  has  dared 
To  hide  those  ribbons— when  he  might  have  spared 
207 


A    CHILD-  WORLD 

My  feelings.— But  no  matter!— Know  the  worst— 

Here  are  the  ribbons,  as  I  feared  at  first."— 

And,  quick  as  snap  of  thumb  and  finger,  there 

The  old  man's  head  had  not  a  sign  of  hair, 

And  in  his  lap  a  wig  of  iron-gray 

Lay,  stuffed  with  all  that  glittering  array 

Of  ribbons.  .  .  "  Take  'em  to  the  ladies— Yes. 

Good-night  to  everybody,  and  God  bless 

The  Children." 

In  a  whisper  no  one  missed 
The  Hired  Man  yawned :    "  He's  a  vantrilloquist/ 

SO  GLORIED  all  the  night.    Each  trundle-bed 
And  pallet  was  enchanted— each  child-head 
Was  packed  with  happy  dreams.    And  long  before 
The  dawn's  first  far-off  rooster  crowed,  the  snore 


208 


FINALE 

Of  Uncle  Mart  was  stilled,  as  round  him  pressed 
The  bare  arms  of  the  wakeful  little  guest 
That  he  had  carried  home  with  him.  .  .  . 

"  I  think/ 

An  awed  voice  said— "(No:  I  don't  want  a  dwink.— 
Lay  still.)— I  think  'The  Noted  Traveler'  he 
'S  the  inscrutibul-est  man  I  ever  see ! " 


209 


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